


The Wonderful Mess We Made

by haleonwheels



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Allison Argent & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Artist Derek, Bathroom Sex, Big Brother Derek, Derek Hale & Scott McCall are Related, Drunk Sex, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, M/M, New Kid Stiles Stilinski, Panic Attacks, Recreational Drug Use, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Secret Artist Derek, Secret Relationship, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Stiles moves to Beacon Hills, The Jungle (Teen Wolf), angst n fluff n smut n all that good shit, ill call him noah when im dead in the ground, sex while high, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-01 00:39:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10910742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haleonwheels/pseuds/haleonwheels
Summary: Derek is Scott's rude older brother. Scott is Stiles' new best friend. Stiles is in a really hard situation (in more ways than one).Or the one where Stiles Stilinski moves to Beacon Hills from New York City and immediately befriends Scott McHale. Scott tells Stiles he's an only child--except he really, really isn't. So how was Stiles supposed to know Derek From The Jungle is actually Derek McHale, Scott's older brother that he kept secret for a reason?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This shit is kinda slow burn at first okay!!!! like straight up no Sterek in the first chapter
> 
> I started writing this in high school years ago and just started it up again. I went back in and changed a lot but it still might start out a lil dry but it picks up i promise you
> 
> Stiles is a sophomore in this fic and Derek is a senior (in high school) -- I'd say they're 16 and 18 so it doesn't feel weird to me but if that makes you uncomfy please proceed with caution!
> 
> also warning: there's a short depiction of a panic attack in this chapter
> 
> unbeta'd so please point out any and all errors! will add tags as I post more chapters. title is from flaws by bastille
> 
> please enjoy and much love <3

The night before Stiles’ first day at Beacon Hills High School, he lies awake questioning how he got to where he is. The last 8 months of his life flash through his mind in images--his mom’s sweet smile, the cold, frigid day of her funeral, his father breaking down, his best friend Lydia’s warm embrace as they hugged goodbye at the airport, his last look at the New York City skyline as the plane took off en route to his new home across the country.

So much had happened so fast, and Stiles feels as if he is breathing for the first time in so long. He tries to let his mind catch up to all that has happened but it’s too much for him. His mom is gone, his dad left his high-paying corporate job to be a Sheriff in a small town in California and he left his best friend behind to move across the country and start over.

***

Beacon Hills High School. He went to the school a couple days before to meet the principal and get a tour. Now, Stiles just sits in his car. It feels like he was walking down 42nd Street with his mom just the other day and now…

Stiles shakes himself out of his daydream and back into the parking lot. He can’t handle thinking those thoughts right now, he has sophomore year to deal with. He quickly swings open his door and stops it just in time to spare the car door next to him. A tough looking guy is standing on the opposite side of the car, a Porsche, that is clearly his and he wants everyone to know it.

"Watch the paint job, asshole," He barks at Stiles. The guy walks away angrily and doesn’t look back. Stiles rolls his eyes.

People suck.

***

First period is math and, seriously, it’s a breeze. The teacher doesn’t force them to do any awkward name games and there’s assigned seating so Stiles has nothing to worry about. He’s seated next to a girl who puts off an intimidating vibe, but when Stiles asks to borrow a pencil, she flashes the warmest smile he’s seen in a long time and tells him  _of course_. She reminds him of Lydia--the harsh exterior, but soft and kind eyes. He leans over slightly to catch her name on her notebook. Allison Argent. Nice to meet you, Allison.

The rest of the day flies by. After math, Stiles goes to chem. Then history, then lunch in an overly crowded cafeteria. Stiles walks in and immediately panics. He spots Allison sitting by herself, reading a book and he heads over.

“Can I sit?” he asks her. She lifts her head with a snarl, clearly hating it when people interrupt her, but her face softens when she recognizes Stiles.

“If you’re quiet,” she says back, but there’s no bite. Stiles pulls back a chair and sits.

“Stiles,” he offers, waiting for her to tell him her name, despite already knowing it.

“Allison.” She smiles and returns to her book. Stiles feels content eating in silence.

***

Somehow, unknown to Stiles, he gets through the entire day alive. It wasn’t nearly as bad as he had thought-- no one asked him where he was from and he didn't feel the need to tell anyone, either. Stiles walks through the halls completely void of expression, as if his new life is happening around him, and not with him. And Stiles is okay with that.

Now all he has to do is change back into his street clothes from his grotesquely maroon uniform after gym. Stiles can’t help but notice that everyone in the locker room is talking to someone but him. Even the porsche asshole from earlier is talking to a kid from his history class.

Suddenly all Stiles can focus on is noise; the conversations to his left and right, in front of him and behind him, the shower's pressure pulsating, the toilets flushing, the coach's whistle outside, the blonde kid laughing hysterically next to him. Stiles can hear all the noises in every corner of his mind, he has nowhere to hide from them. He can feel them in his throat and his kneecaps. Every inch of him feels weak.

Stiles knows what is coming next.

He envisions his father telling him to breathe, putting a strong hand on the back of his neck. All that does, though, is make his neck feel empty, almost vacant.

That's when Stiles notices the shaggy brunette kid next to him, the only other guy in the locker room riding solo. Stiles' heart twinges when he notices the kid looking out of the corner of his eye at the other kids talking and having a good time.

"Hey, you," Stiles is startled by the sound of his own voice; it’s shaky and uneven. The kid snaps his head up to look directly at Stiles, eyes wide as if to say, 'me?'

Stiles' breathing is heavy and he probably sounds like a lunatic.

"Yeah, hi. Could you do me a favor?" The boy's face drops, as if he’s realizing that Stiles doesn’t actually want to talk to him.

"Can you put your hand on the back of my neck?" Stiles winces at how weird it sounds.

The boy raises his eyebrow, but shrugs and puts his hand on the back of Stiles' neck without hesitation. Stiles lets the touch slow his heartbeat and lets it take away the noises swimming around in his head. He decides he should speak up before the situation gets too weird.

"Thanks, dude," Stiles straightens up and lets the kid's hand fall off of his neck.

"I'm Stiles."

"Scott." The kid offers. "Are you… uh… okay?" He stiffens up and it almost seems like he's holding his breath in anticipation for the answer.

"Uh, yeah. Thanks, I, uh…" Stiles struggles for the right words. "I get sort of overwhelmed sometimes. I dunno, I guess contact helps me?" He rolls his eyes sarcastically and then regrets it right after-- God forbid he actually be serious for once. "Seriously, thank you."

"Nah, don't worry about it. This town is weird enough, you fit right in." Scott sort of half-smiles and turns back to his locker.

"Right." Stiles says to himself.

Stiles can hear his old therapist throughout his head- "If you don't take chances, then where are you ever gonna go? How are you gonna get there?" And here he is, standing next to a potential friend, with the opportunity staring him straight in the face. Stiles tells himself to count to three and then politely say it. 1…2…

"Hey, listen... You wanna hang out sometime? I’m new here and the only thing I’ve unpacked is the xBox...” Stiles trailed off.

Scott's face lights up and Stiles can tell he doesn't have very many friends either. "Uh… yeah. Sounds fun," Scott says.

“Awesome. Is... today good?” Stiles asks.

“Sure, why not.” Good enough.

***

"I'm parked over here," Stiles says once they exit the building and reach the parking lot. His arm lazily gestures towards his electric blue Jeep, and right as Scott sees it, he rolls his eyes. Stiles heart rate speeds up drastically and he instantly thinks he's done something wrong.

"Sorry," Scott says. "That's Jackson's car next to yours. Have you met Jackson yet?"

…Of course. The arrogant assface he met earlier seems to have left an impression on Scott as well. Stiles swallows a smile and responds, "Yeah. This morning my car door almost grazed the air around his Porsche and he just looked at me and said w-"

"Watch the paint job!" Scott interjects. Stiles can’t help but burst out laughing. Scott joins him and the 10 second moment in the parking lot of his California school with his new locker room friend is the happiest he's felt in such a long time. From the slight glisten in Scott's eyes, Stiles can tell it’s the same for him, too.

***

The car ride to Stiles' house is, well, long. Stiles may or may not have gotten them lost. He just can’t remember if it’s a left or a right off of Maple St.

After about 15 minutes of all music and no talking, Scott speaks up.

"Um…Stiles?"

"I'm not lost." Scott raises his eyebrow.

"Okay, dude, what's your address?" Scott asks. Stiles rolls his eyes.

"Even if I was lost, I wouldn't tell you," Stiles says defensively since he is, in fact, lost. Scott just laughs lightly and punches Stiles in the shoulder. Stiles mumbles his address.

"Just take the next right," Scott says all-knowingly.

Stiles does as he is told and, what do you know, there’s his street.

"Yeah, just continue down this street--"

"Yeah, yeah yeah, I got it," Stiles interrupts. Scott just sneers at him and Stiles can’t help but think about how _easy_ this all is.

Soon enough, they arrive at Stiles' house and get out of his Jeep. They stumble inside and drop their backpacks by the front door. Stiles grabs a family sized bag of sour cream and onion chips and they set up camp on the newly assembled living room couch.

"Alright. Before we start, I need to warn you, Scott." Stiles yields. Scott raises his left eyebrow curiously and nods for Stiles to go on. "I… kick ass at GTA."

Scott just exhales sharply through the smile that’s stretched across his face. He picks up his controller after Stiles takes it out from under the TV and says,

"Yeah… we'll see about that."

***

Two bags of chips later, John comes through the door, looking tired as all hell.

"Hey, dad, this is Scott.”

"Hi, I'm… yeah I'm Scott." Scott says.

"Hi, Scott." John replies.

"Sorry, we kind of ate all of your chips," Scott offers.

"Oh please. If you're anything like Stiles here, you're still starving. I'll order the pizzas." John says.

"Thanks, um…" Scott's voice trails off, not sure what to call him.

"John."

"Cool."

Stiles smiles, can’t help but realize that this probably means he and Scott are officially friends.

***

As they sit down to 2 large pepperoni pizzas, John says, "So, Scott. Tell me about yourself." Stiles knew his dad would do this, and truth be told he’s sort of glad since he doesn’t really know anything about Scott and doesn’t want to ask himself.

"Well, I've lived in Beacon Hills my whole life."

"Do you like it?" The Sheriff asks.

"Honestly?" Scott says, half joking and half wondering if the Sheriff _actually wants to know_. John nods, so Scott continues. "I mean, sure. Some people are great, but some are just--"

"Assholes?" Stiles interjects.

"Ha, uh, yeah," Scott agrees. "I mean, it's my hometown, so I can't really say that I hate it, but then again, I can't really say that I love it either, y'know?" The Sheriff nods. "But, hey! Maybe things will improve with a new Sheriff in town! The last one, Sheriff Lamb, was a basket case."

"So I heard…" says John. "So, what about your family?"

Scott mumbles into his pizza and then quickly sits up straight, as if he remembers who he’s talking to. "Um, sorry… yeah, it's me and my mom. Just the two of us.”

Stiles can’t help but smile. It gives him a sense of comfort knowing that Scott understands his family dynamic.

“Well, we know what that’s like,” John says, gripping Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles smiles slightly and clears his throat.

"Thanks for the dinner, daddy-o. We're gonna go back to the living room now…" Stiles says, hinting to Scott in his voice that it’s GTA time. John raises his eyebrows accusingly. "Dad, it's the first day of school. It's not like we have homework." Stiles retorts. John turns to Scott.

"Is he lying to me?" John says. Scott's face turns bright red. "Alright then, clear your plates and keep the volume down, okay? It isn't _my_ first day, so…"

"You got it, pops," Stiles cuts him off. The two boys take their paper plates and put them in the impromptu trash can/bag that’s hanging from the cabinet under the sink. They find their way back to the living room couch. Once they start their game up again, under the noises of the video game, Scott says, "Your dad's cool."

"Thanks, yeah… thanks," Stiles replies and smiles.

The rest of the night flies by. Scott tells Stiles about his massive crush on Allison Argent and their summer fling and Stiles tells Scott about his best friend Lydia. Scott leaves around 10PM and John practically has to shove him out the door to get the boys to split up. Stiles falls asleep with a smile on his face for the first time in a long time.


	2. Chapter 2

That Friday, Stiles finds himself in gym class sans Scott. He texted Stiles that morning telling him he had a crazy fever and to stay strong in gym without him. Stiles would’ve been angry if Scott wasn’t... well, Scott.

Stiles stands off to the sides as their gym teacher announces that they’re playing lacrosse. A couple students hoop & holler and some groan as they all grab sticks and head outside.

Once the game is in full swing, Stiles catches himself having a good time. He can’t catch the ball for shit, but he's content to just run up and down the field. He ran track for years back in New York and he can feel the familiar thrill of physical exertion and competition liven him up just a little. He feels the excitement throughout his body.

Stiles catches his breath as he spots Danny and Ethan walking over to him--guys he recognizes from English and history respectively, _actual_ lacrosse players and... boyfriends? Stiles can’t help but notice that the two sweaty, buff guys are holding hands.

“Hey, Stiles, right?” Danny voices, and yeah, okay, his smile is pretty damn blinding.

“Yeah, what's up?” Stiles replies, out of breath from the game and trying to remain casual.

“I’m Danny, this is Ethan.” Stiles nods as if he didn’t already know. He lets Danny continue. “Have you thought about trying out for the lacrosse team?”

“Yeah, our star player quit this year and we need tons of new guys,” Ethan adds.

Stiles can’t help but feel tempted. “Yeah, no, I’ll definitely think about it.”

Danny and Ethan both grin.

“Awesome.” Danny says.

“And hey, if you’re not doing anything tonight...” Ethan starts, turning towards Danny as if to ask for approval.

“Oh yeah,” Danny continues. “We’re going to the Jungle tonight--a club a few towns over. It’s gonna be chill. You got a fake?”

Stiles is a little startled by Danny’s bluntness, but he nods yes.

“Cool, gimme your phone?” Danny asks. Stiles complies and gives his phone over to Danny. He watches as Danny types something and then hands it back. "K, you have my number now--text me your address and we'll pick you up at 10?"

“Yeah, cool, sure,” Stiles replies. He isn’t sure if he’s still feeling the affects of the game or if he’s excited to go out tonight, but his heart is definitely racing regardless.

***

The Jungle is everything Stiles expects and everything he misses about New York. Once they get inside, Stiles takes one look around and feels energy pumping through his veins once again. The cramped, sweaty atmosphere reminds him of his life back in Manhattan.

The club is basically one big room, a warehouse kind of space, with dancers positioned on pedestals placed sporadically around the room. There’s a bar on the back wall and a plethora of disco balls hanging from the ceiling. And then there’s all the men.

Holy _shit_ are there a lot of men.

“Danny... is this a--” Stiles starts.

“Oh shit, yeah, I totally forgot to mention--It’s gay club,” Danny eyes Stiles, worried. Stiles can’t tell if it actually slipped his mind or if maybe it was on purpose. He finds himself not caring. “Is that okay?”

“Fuck yeah,” Stiles says. He figures there’s no use hiding it. “Yeah, it’s awesome.”

Danny purses his lips and nods his head. He’s pickin’ up what Stiles is putting down.

“You ready to rumble, man?” Ethan yells over the obnoxiously loud techno music.

Stiles laughs, but they’re already gone. Danny has Ethan’s hand in his and is pulling him out to the dance floor. Stiles laughs as he watches them dance like total idiots.

Stiles realizes there’s no way he’s surviving the night sober, so he maneuvers his way around the mob of people to get to the bar. He uses his fake ID to get a drink, and chugs it right there in one sip. He feels a familiar buzz start to tingle throughout his body, first in his head and then all over as he sips at his second drink.

“Come on, Stiles! Let’s goooo!” Danny shouts over his shoulder to get Stiles to join them. Stiles really doesn’t know what to do-- he hasn’t been to a place like this in a long time and is worried he’s out of it, dancing wise. But he figures _fuck it_ , and he walks out to the dance floor, feeling tipsy and energized.

Stiles joins Danny and Ethan in the middle of the clump of guys and immediately lets his body take over. He feels the effects of the alcohol throughout his body and fuck does it feel _good_. He moves his hips fluidly and runs his fingers through his hair, getting into the movements. He lets the feel of all the bodies surrounding him and the buzz he has going motivate him to move freely and quickly. He’s on fire, if he says so himself.

Stiles is so out of it, practically floating above himself, that he doesn’t realize when someone grabs his hips and presses themselves into his back, moving with him. Stiles feels the press of leather against his body, the sting of stubble against his jaw as him and the stranger roll their bodies together. They move like this for a couple songs, Stiles blissed out and drenched with sweat. Stiles itches for more. He’s on a role and he _needs_ this.

Stiles turns around at the right moment and feels his lips collide with his dance partner’s. They continue to grind on each other, only now their lips are crashing together. The kiss is hot and heady and gives Stiles very little space to breathe. Stiles’ hands roam all over his partner’s body, exploring his leather jacket that molds to well defined muscles and his jeans that hold on closely to his tight ass. Stiles’ hands grab at said ass as he feels the stranger do the same to him.

It’s intoxicating being this close to someone. Stiles can barely breathe; it’s an amazing feeling, but he knows his own limits and if he doesn’t get off this dance floor soon, he most definitely will pass out.

“Wanna get out of here?” Stiles feels the low grumble of his dance partner’s voice against his ear. It’s as if he’s reading Stiles’ mind.

Stiles pulls his face away, wanting to get a good look at his mysterious dance partner. Through the dull lighting and the overall mustiness of the club, Stiles can make out sharp features, _gorgeous features_ , that include a healthy dose of stubble, protruding eyebrows, and delectable pouty lips. The thought of what those lips could do to Stiles make his dick jump in his jeans.

“Fuck yeah,” Stiles responds. The stranger grabs his hand and starts to pull him towards the bathroom. Stiles looks back at the dance floor to try and get Danny and Ethan’s attention, but they are so far down each other’s throats, the effort is useless.

Once they get to the bathroom, the stranger leads Stiles into the nearest stall, obviously feeling the same urgency as Stiles to be as naked as possible as _soon_ as possible. They go crashing into the stall, the stranger turning Stiles around and pinning him to the door so fast, Stiles feels even more dizzy than he already did.

But the dizziness feels _good_ and the dizziness feels even better when it’s accompanied by a strange man’s tongue in Stiles’ mouth, exploring and asking for more. The man presses his whole weight against Stiles and Stiles moans at the feeling. He feels strong, calloused hands creeping their way under his t-shirt, palming at his back with urgency and _want_ as his own hands tug and pull at the older man’s dark hair.

“Can I..” The stranger clears his throat as he pulls slightly away from Stiles’ face and starts to slide down his body. Stiles nods profusely and the man unzips his pants and pulls out Stiles’ embarrassingly hard cock. The smirk on his face as he licks his lips has just about set Stiles off completely when he looks up at Stiles and says, “Derek, by the way.”

“S-Stiles,” He manages to say, only slurring his ‘s’s a little bit. Derek smiles back shortly, but Stiles has minimal time to admire his glowing green eyes because, yup, his dick is in Derek’s mouth.

Derek bobs his head up and down, slowly at first, but quickens his pace after a couple seconds. He lifts his hand to the base of Stiles’ cock and pumps it up and down, only adding to the pleasure.

“Fuck, oh my god...” Stiles breathes out. Derek hums in agreement, sending vibrations throughout Stiles’ body, making his knees weak and his stomach cave. Derek darts his tongue over Stiles’ slit and then used it to lick up his length from the base to the very tip. Derek then swallows Stiles’ cock down once again, letting it hit the back of his throat with ease.

Watching Derek move his head up and down, his cheeks hollowed out, is enough to send Stiles over the edge. He yanks on Derek’s hair to send him a signal that he is most definitely coming now, but Derek just hums and keeps pumping Stiles’ cock with his hand. He immediately comes, shooting straight down Derek’s throat. He swallows every last drop as he eases Stiles through his orgasm.

Stiles’ mouth is wide open as he comes down from his high, and Derek uses this to his advantage. He slots his mouth into Stiles’, kissing him hard and passionately, cupping Stiles’ cheeks with his hands. Stiles finds his hands wandering Derek’s body, moving quickly from his back, to his ass, and finally to the zipper of his incredibly tight jeans. He hastily unzips them, shoving his hand in to retrieve Derek’s extremely hard cock. Stiles yanks it out and starts to stroke it at full force, wanting more than anything to make Derek come.

“C’mon...” Stiles teases into his mouth. “Come for me, Derek.”

That seems to be all Derek needs, because sure enough he’s spurting all over Stiles’ hand and his own pants. He can feel Derek’s breath hitch against his lips. Stiles keeps pumping, riding out Derek’s orgasm as he had done to Stiles.

Derek pulls away from Stiles and Stiles can’t help but giggle because Derek looks completely debauched and _Stiles did that_.

They both zip up their respective pants and use toilet paper to clean themselves up in silence. It’s comfortable, though, in way Stiles does not expect his first random hook-up to be.

Derek tosses his hair, pats Stiles on the arm, purses his lips together and says, “See ya ‘round, Stiles.”

And with that, he’s gone.

***

Since Danny was the designated driver for the night, he drives Stiles home and doesn’t ask him any questions about where he disappeared to. Thankfully, too, because if he did Stiles might come in his pants right there from reliving the moment too hard.

Fortunately for Stiles, the Sheriff is working late, so when Stiles gets home at 2 o'clock in the morning, no one is there to interrogate him. He stalks up to his room and collapses on his bed.

He lays there for a while, humming _I Just Had Sex_ to himself with a dopey grin on his face, when he feels a pang in his heart for his best friend and decides to shoot Lydia a text.

**Stiles (Sat 2:08 AM): Remember me?**

Stiles second guesses himself as he waits for a reply. He knows he's barely talked to her since the move. What if she doesn’t wants anything to do with him?

He waits still for a reply, and suddenly gets a call instead.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Stiles answers the phone. He can hear Lydia’s sigh on the other end.

“Stiles Stilinski, do you honestly think I, Lydia Martin, have time for anything as common as _sleeping_?” God, does he miss her. “...Well?”

“Well what, Lydia?” Stiles asks.

“Stiles, honey. I have known you your whole life. You haven’t talked to me in months. Am I supposed to pretend it’s normal that you’re texting me out of the blue at 2 o'clock in the morning?” Lydia says into the phone. Stiles knows she’s trying to act all unattached and superior, but he can hear the sadness in her voice. She misses her best friend.

“Lydia, I...” Stiles starts. How is he supposed to apologize for just up and leaving and then neglecting to contact her for months?

“No need to explain. I get it. You were...” She sighs. “You were in a tough place. You both were, you and your dad. I just... I would’ve appreciated a call, letting me know you were okay.”

“I know. I suck. But you could’ve called me, y’know.” Stiles says jokingly. He knows that isn’t what this is about. But he didn’t called to be all sappy.

“Yeah, yeah.” He can practically hear her waving her hand around. “Now that we’ve got _that_ sorted out, what did you actually call me to tell me?”

Stiles’ heart starts beating faster. He slaps his hand over his face and blurts the words out.

“Oh my god, I totally just had sex with a random guy in the bathroom of a gay club.”

“Oh dear lord. Stiles!”

“But the reason I’m calling is that I wish you were here so I could tell you all about it,” Stiles says quietly.

“Honey, I wish I were there, too.” Lydia responds, trying to seem supportive and calm. It’s just a matter of seconds before she asks-- “Can you just tell me all about it now? Please?” There it is.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s not like I wasn’t going to.” Stiles say. He tells her all about Derek, and then all about Scott and Danny. He tells her all about his new life and she tells him all about hers and they talk until 5 AM Stiles’ time. Just like old times.


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles wakes up on Saturday in the early afternoon with a slight hangover and an immediate Scott craving. He hasn’t seen Scott since _Thursday_ \--their record since they became friends a week ago.

Stiles rolls over in his bed to grab his phone from his nightstand. Scott texted him four times this morning.

**Scott (Sat 8:37 AM): fuuuuck strep fuck it fuck itttt**

****Scott (Sat 8:38 AM):** i didnt sleep a fuckin wink last night**

****Scott (Sat 10:30 AM):** i think i would literally commit murder for some goddamn chicken noodle soup >:(**

****Scott (Sat 11:29 AM):** stab me in the face pls**

Stiles stares at the words on his screen and it doesn’t take long for him to decide to visit Scotty with some (store bought) soup. He rolls out of bed and winces once he sees his reflection in the mirror hanging on the back of his door. He looks like he downed a couple beers, got fucked in the bathroom of a club and stayed up all night on the phone--which is fair considering that’s basically what happened.

Stiles makes his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face. He decides to forgo the shower since it’s just Scott he’s seeing--his dad is probably at the station and Stiles knows that Scott’s mom works Saturdays also. Besides, looking this gross will totally add to the dramatics of his Jungle story.

Stiles grabs an apple, his wallet and keys and heads out the front door. The daylight blinds him like he’s some kind of fucking vampire, so he grabs his sunglasses off the kitchen counter and then he’s finally out the door. He tries to ignore his reflection in the car window cause, _damn_ , he really looks repulsive.

Stiles drives to the supermarket, picks up some cans of chicken noodle soup for Scott and a frozen pizza for himself and then heads over to Scott’s. He’s been to Scott’s house once, but he’s never been inside. They drove there after school Tuesday so Scott could drop off his backpack and pick up his phone charger for another afternoon at Stiles’.

Stiles drives up and parks the car across the street. He strolls up to the door, knocking immediately. He hears a muted “I got it!” and a couple seconds later, Scott answers the door. He’s wrapped in a blanket, his eyes are puffy and his nose is red. He looks like absolute trash. It makes Stiles smile.

“Stiles!” Scott’s face lights up, but almost instantly turns sour. “Wait, what are you doing here?” Stiles holds up the bag of goods and smiles.

“I come bearing gifts! And a story about the _niiight_ I had...” He says as he walks past Scott, inviting himself in. He ignores the look on Scott’s face that says something other than _I’m so happy you’re here_ and looks around.

“Stiles, that’s so nice, but I’m feeling better actually! It’s really incredible,” Scott says.

Stiles looks at him through his sunglasses that are still plastered to his face and raises an eyebrow.

“What’s up? Why are you--” Before Stiles can finish his thought a voice booms from upstairs.

“Scott?! Is that my food?” Scott’s eyes widen and his arms reach out towards Stiles, shooing him towards the door.

“Really Stiles, I appreciate it, but I actually feel 300% better, so I’ll just see you at school on Monday!” Scott says frantically while pushing Stiles outside. Stiles turns around just in time to see someone coming downstairs.

“Scott, what’s going on?” Stiles asks, but before Scott can give another excuse, the figure storming down the stairs comes into view. A figure with really nice legs... and torso... and... face?

 _Oh, shit_.

Stiles slides his sunglasses onto the top of his head and drops his jaw. That’s...

“Derek, Stiles... Stiles, Derek,” Scott says half-heartedly, while motioning between the two guys. “Derek is my older brother.”

Derek looks Stiles dead in the eyes, licks his lips and swallows.

“Nice to meet you, Stiles,” Derek says, eyes narrowing.

“Yeah... um, you... yeah, you too,” Stiles spits out. He can’t help but think about how repulsive he looks... and how _good_ Derek looks. Like, he must’ve showered this morning. Damn.

Stiles manages to rip his eyes off of Derek--Derek who had his _dick in his mouth less than 24 hours ago_ \--and look at Scott with a look of a thousand questions.

“Stiles, you wanna go for a ride? We can make the soup at your house,” Scott offers. He gives Stiles a pleading look, like _he_ is the one who did something unspeakable. And then Stiles pieces it all together-- _it's me and my mom. Just the two of us._ Scott told him he didn’t have any siblings. But he does. Derek. Derek is Scott’s brother. And Stiles got Derek off in a club bathroom last night.

Stiles shifts his gaze from Scott to Derek and back to Scott again.

“Sure, Scotty,” Stiles finally says. “Yeah, let’s go to my place.”

Scott smiles and says, “Cool, lemme grab a sweatshirt and my shoes real quick.” Scott moves towards the stairs. “I’ll be right back.” And then, quietly to Derek as he passes him on the stairs, “Be. Nice.”

Before Stiles can object, he finds himself alone with Derek. He’s just standing there on the stairs, arms crossed and leaning against the wall. He looks like he’s waiting for Stiles to freak out and say something dumb, as if this whole situation wasn’t the end of the _freaking world_. Stiles opens and closes his mouth, trying to find the words.

“I--” Stiles starts, only to be interrupted by Scott storming back down the stairs.

“Alright, let’s go, Stiles,” Scott says while zooming past him and out the door. Stiles’ eyes are still locked with Derek’s when he says, “Right behind you...” not nearly loud enough for Scott to hear. Stiles then breaks their eye contact and solemnly heads outside, closing the door behind him.

***

The car ride is mostly silent, until they pull up to Stiles’ house. Stiles turns the engine off and grips the steering wheel. He searches for his words.

“So...” Stiles starts.

“Fuck, Stiles.” Scott drops his head into his hands. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have lied to you. It’s just that Derek and I have a... complicated relationship.” He lifts his head and stares out the windshield in front of him. “I didn’t want it to fuck up our friendship. And then your dad asked me about my family and... I honestly don’t know what I was thinking cause I ended up fucking this up all on my own.” Stiles turns towards Scott.

“Scotty, what? Nothing is fucked up.” Scott whips his head to look at Stiles.

“What?”

“Dude, we all have our own crazy family shit. I totally get it. Honestly, bro, no worries,” Stiles offers. Scott sighs a massive sigh.

“Cool.” The boys get out of the car.

“But um...” Stiles starts as they head inside his house. “Why did you lie?”

“Yeah, I should probably explain,” Scott says. And he does.

He explains how their father left when Stiles and Derek were little, leaving their mother--a full time nurse--to raise the two boys completely on her own. Tensions were high for most of Scott’s childhood. Derek assumed the role of “man of the house” and carried all of the stress that came with it-- _despite no one asking him to_ , Scott clarifies. He explains how, because of this, Derek felt entitled to everything that Scott ever had. He stole everything--lunch boxes, gameboys, their mother’s attention and friends. Scott’s one friend freshman year, Isaac, ditched him the minute he met Derek. Isaac moved away at the end of the year, without so much as a word to Scott. He doesn’t say so, but Stiles can tell that it stings Scott everyday.

“Look, I just... I can’t lose another friend,” Scott says so quietly Stiles leans in closer out of reflex as they sit down on the couch.

“Scotty boy, don’t worry about,” Stiles says, “we can just chill at my place for all of eternity.” He tries to lighten the mood. Scott smiles big and bright.

“Cool,” he says. “And thanks.”

“Yeah, whatever dude.” Scott huffs and a comfortable silence falls upon the boys. Until Scott sits up straight and breaks it.

“Oh my god, dude, weren’t you gonna tell me something when you came over earlier?” Scott asks, and Stiles is thankful for the change in topic of conversation.

“Oh, fuck, yeah. I was,” Stiles starts, not knowing where to go from there.

“What happened?” Scott asks, genuinely curious.

“Yeah... you know Danny? Mahealani?”

“Yeah, that dude’s the best. Fuckin monster on the field.”

“Hah, yeah. Well when you totally ditched me yesterday and left me to suffer alone in gym--”

“Dude, I have strep--”

“--I totally hit it off with Danny. And Ethan. And so they invited me out with them.”

“Oh, sick. Where’d you guys go?”

Stiles swallows. “The Jungle? Have you heard of it?” Scott looks off into his peripheral, as if he’s trying to recall the name. Stiles watches him remember.

“Oh, yeah! Isn’t it a gay club?”

“Hah, yeah,” Stiles responds.

“Wasn’t that a little weird? I mean... that’s a lot of dudes...” Scott starts.

“It’s actually not weird. For me. For me, it’s not weird at all,” Stiles fumbles. He hopes he’s getting his point across. Scott’s face lights up. Bingo.

“Ohhh... Got it.” Scott taps his temple with his index finger to emphasize his deduction skills. Stiles can’t help but laugh.

“Glad to have a friend with such astounding intuition,” Stiles jokes. Scott punches his shoulder.

“Shut up, man. So? What happened?” Scotts asks, curious.

“Oh, yeah. I got fucked up and hooked up with someone in a bathroom.” Scott’s eyes widen.

“Dude! What! That’s awesome!” Scott sounds genuinely excited. “Who was it?”

Stiles swallows down a lump that immediately forms in his throat. He still can’t believe for himself who he hooked up with. Derek. Derek McHale. Scott McHale’s older brother. The one he _hates_. And Stiles can’t help but hate himself just as much. He forces out a lie.

“I have no clue.”

“What!! That’s legendary, man. Jesus...” Scott rubs his head, dumbfounded. “A dude, though, right?” He clarifies.

“Yeah, it was a guy.”

“Bro, that’s awesome.” Scot claps him on the back. “Was it good?”

Stiles lets out a noise, but he isn’t sure if it’s a laugh or a sigh. “Yeah, it was... fuck, it was _awesome_ .” He can’t hold back a smile. Despite the huge mistake he didn’t know he was making, it was amazing. He hasn’t been able to get his mind off of Derek’s _mouth_ all day. A mouth that is related to his new best friend...

“Stiles, dude, I’m happy for you. And thanks, you know, for telling me.”

“Jesus, can we be done with the confessions portion of the program and skip to the part where I beat your _ass_ at GTA?” Scott laughs, nodding in agreement.

***

Three hours later, the boys are elbow deep in GTA when Scott’s phone rings. The screen reads _MOM_ so Stiles pauses the game as Scott answers.

“Hello?”

“Hey! How’re you feeling?” Stiles can hear the other line clearly but occupies himself on his phone so it’s not obvious that he’s eavesdropping.

“Uh... better?” Scott says like it’s a question.

“Better as in ‘actually healthy’ or better as in ‘sick but at Stiles’ house playing video games?’” Melissa quips. Damn. She’s good.

"Both?"

"Right, okay."

“...Did I mention you’re the best mom ever?” Scott tries to reason.

“No, and because of that, I can expect you _and Stiles_ here for dinner in one hour.” Stiles tries to keep his eyes from bugging out of his head at the sound of that.

“Wha-- Mom!” Scott is dumbfounded.

“Don’t ‘Mom!’ me! Derek got to meet the famous Stiles and now it’s my turn. Family dinner. Plus Stiles. One hour. Goodbye.” And with that, Melissa hangs up. Scott turns towards Stiles slowly. He fakes a smile.

“You got dinner plans?” Scott asks.


	4. Chapter 4

Later that evening, Stiles drives himself and Scott back over to the McHale house. As Scott solemnly walk up the steps, Stiles lags behind him just a touch.

“You look like you’re walking to your death, dude,” Stiles offers from his place several paces behind Scott. Scott looks stressed beyond belief, but Stiles is the one who is _actually walking to his death_ , so he figures he could at least try to lighten the mood.

The boys reach the door and Scott sighs heavily. “Ok, here we go,” He mumbles as he opens the door.

They step inside and Stiles is immediately hit with the warm smell of homemade cooking. He pushes down the sadness he feels coming up like bile-- _not now_.

“Mom?!” Scott yells into the house as the boys take off their shoes.

“Scott? Is that you? Did you bring Stiles?” Melissa yells from the kitchen. Scott scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, mom, he’s here,” Scott yells back as Stiles adds a “Hello...!”

“Well bring him in here, smart-ass!”

Scott clicks his tongue and heads in the direction of Melissa’s voice.

Once in the kitchen, Stiles sees a middle aged woman with brown curly hair and, when she looks up from the carrots she’s cutting, a smile so warm it makes something tight in Stiles’s chest release.

“And you must be Stiles!” She says, walking around the island. “I’ve heard so much about you. I’m Melissa, Scott’s mom.”

“Nice to meet you, Melissa,” Stiles responds. “Uh, thanks for having me over tonight. Hope it’s not too much trouble...”

“Oh, please,” Melissa says, lightly tapping him on the arm with a smirk. She lowers her voice and says, “I’m just glad Scott finally has a friend.”

“Mom!”

“Shush,” She turns to Scott. “I’m making your favorite--chicken pot pie. And we’re going to sit down and have a nice family dinner. Plus Stiles.”

Scott groans. “Do we have to?”

“What do you think the answer to that question is? Use your brain, honey.” Melissa has sass, and Stiles truly appreciates that.

“Is Derek gonna be here?” Scott asks his mom. Melissa sighs.

“Yes, Scott. I said _family_ dinner. He is your brother, after all.” Scott rolls his eyes at that and grabs a carrot from the counter. With his mouth full, he nods his head back towards the stairs.

“C’mon,” Scott says, mouth full. “Let’s head up to my room.”

Stiles nods and complies, following Scott out of the kitchen.

“Don’t snack up there, dinner’s in half an hour!” Melissa yells after them.

***

When Melissa calls the teenagers down to dinner, Stiles’ heart is racing. He knows Derek is Scott’s brother and he can easily say that Scott is his best friend, which means he’ll _probably_ find himself at the McHale’s more often than not during his next three years in Beacon Hills.

But he can’t help but wonder if he’ll be this nervous every single time he wonders if Derek is waiting just around the corner.

And, of course, Derek is. He’s already sitting at the table, speaking casually with his mom about who knows what. Stiles’ breath catches when he see’s him. He tries to cover it with a light cough, but this makes him actually cough and before he knows it, he’s having a coughing fit in the McHale’s kitchen doorway. ‘Cause, like, of course.

Scott stops by his side, clearly wanting to help.

“Dude, are you ok?” Scott asks, looking worried. Stiles stops coughing and swallows, lifting his gaze directing to Derek.

“Are you allergic to anything, sweetie?” Melissa asks. _Your fucking scalding hot son, apparently,_ Stiles wants to respond. Instead, he looks at Melissa kindly.

“No, sorry!” He responds quickly. “Ah, just a little something in my throat, I guess, ha.” He forces out a laugh. Melissa smiles and Scott moves to the table to sit down.

Stiles takes a deep breath and sits down in the empty seat next to Scott. Derek is sitting at the head of the table (which Stiles tries to tell himself is _not hot_ ) and Melissa sits across from the two boys. As everyone starts to serve themselves the homemade meal, Melissa seems to remember something.

“Oh, Derek!” Derek looks up at her. “Great news, I almost forgot to tell you! Mary mentioned she’s been looking to switch her Friday night shifts with an earlier one, which means I can finally come to your lacrosse games this year!”

Derek shifts his gaze back down into his food, looking vulnerable which puts Stiles off. He can’t believe this is the same insanely intimidating guy he danced with last night.

“Uhh, great,” is all Derek manages to mumble into his food. Melissa looks at him transparently.

“What do you mean, ‘ _uhh, great_ ?’ Derek, you’re _captain_ this year, I thought you’d want this.” Melissa’s tone suggests she’s holding back on account of having a guest.

Derek’s face contorts so quickly, one wouldn’t notice if they weren’t studying him so intensely like Stiles is. Derek seems to sense this and looks up at Stiles. His face snaps back into the cocky, unreadable expression Stiles recognizes.

“So, Stiles, why did you leave New York?” Derek asks. Melissa rolls her eyes at the change of subject. She’ll obviously get her answer out of him later.

Scott, on the other hand, chokes on his food.

“ _Derek_ , you can’t just ask him that,” Scott snaps.

“Scott, calm the fuck down. I’m just engaging with your new boyfriend,” Derek quips. The exchange is happening so fast Stiles can’t seem to find his voice.

“Shit, shut up! Why are you such an asshole?”

“Me?! I--”

“Boys!” Melissa breaks up the fight before it can go any farther. “We have a guest,” She nods her head towards Stiles, whatever subtly she’s trying to use falling very short. “Let’s be civil?”

Scott and Derek slump in their chairs identically.

“My mom died,” Stiles lets slip.

“Stiles, seriously, you don’t have to--” Scott starts.

“And my dad and I couldn’t take living in her leftover space. Then when we heard that he had a chance to run unopposed for Sheriff of Beacon Hills and the next thing I know, Scotty here is putting his hand on my neck in the locker room.”

Everyone’s eyebrows shoot up at that. Must be a McHale thing.

“Not as weird as it sounds,” Scott mumbles.

“Well, we are happy you and John found your way here. I think you’re both where you need to be--and I’m sorry about the circumstances that got you here,” Melissa offers so easily. Stiles appreciates it. He gives her a small smile while reaching for his water glass. Of course, that’s when his hand happens to graze against Derek’s, causing him to bounce in his seat. He immediately turns to Scott to cover his sudden movement, raising his eyebrows erratically.

“So uh, you were telling me you were gonna try out for baseball, yeah?”

***

Hours later at 3am, Stiles is lying on his back staring at the ceiling from his makeshift bed on the floor. He doesn’t understand how he’s expected to sleep. He has thousands of thoughts running manically around his head while Scott snores lightly on his bed. Scott fell asleep an hour ago after ranting to Stiles about his budding, beautiful relationship with Allison (for the record--Stiles did _not_ ask). Before Stiles knows it, he’s on his feet and he’s slowly opening Scott’s door.

Once he’s in the hallway, he can either go left down the stairs, right to the bathroom or straight. To Derek’s room. The door is ajar... so the next thing Stiles knows, he's opening it even more and stepping inside.

The room is dark, except where the moonlight seeps in from the window. It illuminates the bed that’s on the far side of the room. Stiles can faintly see the outline of Derek’s body in bed, turned away from the door. His side rises and falls with his breathing.

“You shouldn’t be in here,” Stiles hears from across the room. He feels a shiver run down his spine at the thought of Derek knowing it was him without looking.

“I know, I’m--” Stiles doesn’t know what to say. Derek interrupts him by moving to sit up in his bed. He doesn’t look at Stiles, just stares at the space in front of him, his elbows resting on the outsides of his bent knees. Stiles starts to move towards the bed.

“Don’t, Stiles,” Derek warns, closing his eyes in frustration. Stiles feels a sharp twinge in his heart. He stops in his tracks. “I know Scott hates me...” His voice is heavy with years of stress and sadness. “I know I’ve been a terrible older brother. But I can’t fuck up your friendship. Not again. Not when I only have one year left here.” Stiles raises an eyebrow, a thought dawning on him.

“Wait... how come I haven’t seen you around school?” This makes Derek turns towards him to finally look him in the eyes. The moonlight catches on Derek’s green eyes, making him look almost supernatural. “Why didn’t you seem familiar when we...” Stiles trails off.

Derek seems to hesitate before explaining.

“I filled pretty much all of my requirements by my junior year. I mostly just take classes in the art wing now.” Stiles can’t help but let out a tiny laugh.

“Art? I thought you did lacr--”

“Fuck, Stiles, did you come in here to question my life choices?”

“No...” Stiles starts. Quietly, he adds, “Sorry.”

“So why did you?” Derek’s voice is so small it’s almost inaudible.

“Why did I what?”

“Why did you come in here.” Derek voice gets louder, determined. Like he’s asking to get a specific answer. But Stiles doesn’t know what to say to that. He just felt himself going across the hall and walking into Derek’s room. It was like he was drawn to him.

“I...”

“Stiles,” Stiles can’t help but love hearing his name on Derek’s tongue. Derek turns back to the space in front of him. “We need to forget about this. Just pretend it didn’t happen. I’m out of this shit town in like ten months so until then, just--”

“Yeah, dude, I get it,” Stiles puts his hands up in defense “I didn’t expect us to be boyfriend and girlfriend, okay? I’m not that obtuse.” Stiles turns around towards the door, reopening it so he can slip out. “Message received.”

“Stiles, that’s--”

“See you in the morning,” Stiles quips, not looking back.

***

But he doesn’t. When the boys wake up, they stumble downstairs for breakfast. Melissa is running around the kitchen in her scrubs, her hair up in a messy bun.

“Good morning, boys,” she says, not looking up from the drawers she’s frantically searching. “Scott, honey, have you seen my car keys?”

“Yeah, Mom. They’re in the front hall,” He says, with a tone of voice that hints this is a regular occurrence. “Not the silverware drawer.”

Melissa looks up and squints. “Ok, smart-ass.” Her face shifts to something a little softer. “I think Derek had the last of the cereal before he left--”

“Of course he did,” Scott mumbles under his breath. Melissa ignores it.

“So you’ll have to fend for yourselves.” She turns to Stiles. “Honey, you’re more than welcome to stay as long as you’d like, but make sure you boys get your work done.”

Scott rolls his eyes. Stiles doesn’t need to think twice about getting the hell out of Derek’s house as soon as possible.

“Yeah, I should really head home. I have tons of work,” He lies. Scott nods and Melissa jumps in.

“I can give you a ride, I’m headed in that direction to the hospital anyways.”

“Ah, thanks, but I have my car,” Stiles hears himself saying. Melissa nods.

“Alrighty, well,” She kisses the top of Scott’s head. Scott makes a small face, but Stiles thinks it’s sweet. “Be good, Scott. Stiles, it was so nice to finally meet you. You’re welcome here any time.”

Stiles feels his heart warm a tiny bit.

“Thanks, Melissa.”

***

Stiles comes home to his dad asleep on the couch, yesterday’s newspaper strewn across his chest. When Stiles closes the front door, it wakes him.

“Stiles?”

“Hey, dad,” Stiles kicks off his shoes by the front door, determined to make it upstairs before John tries to start up a conversation. He just doesn’t have the energy.

“How was Scott’s? You two still best BFF’s forever?” John asks lightheartedly. Stiles stops short at the bottom of the staircase when his dad starts talking. He must be in a good mood if he’s crackin’ jokes.

“Yeah, dad.” Stiles runs a hand through his hair, suddenly missing his buzzcut. Life seemed simpler back then...

“Everything ok?” The Sheriff asks.

“Yup,” Stiles lies. “All status quo here.” He thinks _I had sex with my new best friend’s older who is truly off limits and now wants nothing to do with me_ is a bit much for a Sunday morning. “Just got a lot of work to do.” At least that much was true.

“All right, well hop to it then,” John says, gesturing with the rolled up newspaper in his hand. Stiles gives him his best smile, but knows it must be weak.

“You got it, Pops,” Stiles says, heading upstairs.

Once in his room, Stiles drops all of his stuff and crashes into his bed. He doesn’t get out of bed all day. He curls himself up in his blankets with his computer and drowns himself in Netflix, not letting his mind drift to the literal pile of work waiting for him on his desk. No, he is _definitely_ not thinking about homework.

He’s thinking about strong, calloused hands and piercing green eyes. He’s thinking about that deep voice saying his name, a sound he wants to listen to on repeat. He’s thinking about all the things he can’t have, but _fuck_ he wants. He’s thinking about Derek McHale.

And that’s when Stiles realizes he has feelings for Derek. For Scott’s older brother.

Damn, what a shit weekend.


	5. Chapter 5

Stiles’ days begin to go by at fucking _snail’s pace_ . He spends every second of every class of every day tapping his pencil or cracking his knuckles or bouncing his leg, _anything_ \--he’s an anxious kid, okay?--to try to dispel at least _some_ of his nervous energy.

The realization of his feelings for Derek was closely followed by a realization that Stiles should stay as far away from the McHale house as possible. Stiles knows his own levels of willpower and therefore knows that if he sees Derek anytime soon, he’ll either cry or bust a nut and neither of those sound like very appealing options.

A third realization made Stiles grasp the fact that if Scott invites him over, he _has to go_. Stiles isn’t too dense to see that Scott wanting him to come over is a big deal and not something he can just blow off. If Scott so much as hints at wanting Stiles to come over to hang, Stiles knows exactly what he’s in for.

Hence the tapping and the cracking and the bouncing. He feels like a house of cards ready to blow and when added to his ADHD, he truly might just burst any second.

Before Stiles knows it, an entire week of silently flipping the fuck out and hanging at his place with Scott has gone by and he finds himself at lacrosse tryouts the following Monday.

Scott peaces out after school to try out for baseball instead and Stiles watches him walk away, cursing himself for telling Danny and Ethan he’d do lacrosse. The last thing he--or any sane person--needs is to flail around like an idiot for an hour after school while the guy he wants to bone--and, okay, fucking _date_ , Jesus christ--watches. But Stiles may be hyperactive and a lot to deal with, but he’s a man of his word and that means... lacrosse tryouts.

Danny texted him that morning to meet him in the locker room immediately after last period, so when the final bell rings, Stiles rushes to meet him.

Stiles finds the room completely empty because it’s literally only been one minute since the bell rang and not everyone at this school is as perpetually anxious as he.

Stiles takes his sacred moments of privacy to peruse the trophy case lining the far wall of the room. His eyes are lazily skimming the names and awards when they stop at a frame hanging in the center of the far left case. Above the frame, the letters **MVP** are etched into a golden plaque, followed by the words **Derek McHale, Varsity Lacrosse, Junior Class**. The frame holds a picture of a slightly younger Derek, sans stubble, standing on the field with his lacrosse stick. Smiling. Not just smiling, but _laughing_. From the looks of it, the camera caught Derek mid-laugh, capturing his face in a moment of pure joy.

Stiles absent-mindedly reaches a hand out to touch, hypnotized by Derek’s glowing face, but his hand abruptly hits the glass separating him from the picture.

He rubs his knuckles and looks around. People are starting to slowly filter into the locker room, but Stiles can’t seem to will himself to move. He glances back at the picture and finds himself smiling back at Derek’s huge smile. He tries his hardest not to think _Have you ever seen something so beautiful?_ But, seriously... has anyone ever seen something so beautiful?

Danny appears next to him, clapping him on the back and interrupting his thoughts.

“Do well enough today and that’ll be you someday,” Danny teases. Stiles scoffs.

“No pressure, right?”

“Yeah, something like that.” Danny cracks a small smile. “You ready?

“As I’ll ever be,” Stiles says nervously and thanks god that Danny can’t hear fast his heart is beating (...but like, how cool would _that_ be?).

***

Derek is nowhere to be found at tryouts. Stiles tries not to let this bother him, but he can’t help but wonder why. Do captains not have to come to tryouts? ‘Cause that’d make, like, no sense whatsoever.

Stiles struggles through the hour of tests and exercises. Well, struggles is a kind word. _Fail_ is what he swears he hears under the breath of some of the better players.

Stiles is okay with it, though. He knows playing on the same team as Derek would be far beyond way too much for him to deal with. He just wishes he could’ve put that picture of Derek out of his goddamn mind long enough to not drown himself in utter humiliation. He misses the goal by a good yard when he thinks about Derek’s cute lil’ bunny teeth. He trips on his own feet when he thinks about Derek’s laugh lines that he hasn’t been blessed enough to witness for himself. He falls flat on his ass when he realizes all he wants is to make Derek laugh like that, to be the reason for Derek’s happiness.

Needless to say, lacrosse tryouts do not go well.

***

The following day, Stiles is packing up his belongings after English class ends when his phone buzzes with a text from Scott.

**Scott (Tues 1:38 PM): GYM IS CANCELED YOOOO**

Stiles fist pumps, ignoring the looks he gets as he leaves class, and immediately texts back.

**Stiles (Tues 1:39 PM): YESSSS HOLY SHIT**

**Scott (Tues 1:41 PM): MEET ME IN THE PARKING LOT DUDE**

When Stiles gets outside, he sees Scott waiting by his Jeep.

“Dude!!” Stiles exclaims, unable to contain his excitement. “What happened?”

Scott practically jumps on Stiles, pulling him into a bro hug.

“Who knows! Mullins left a note on the door that class is canceled!” Scott’s voice is probably two octaves higher than normal, but Stiles gets it.

“Well, hop in, buddy!” Stiles says, getting into his car. “Let’s waste this afternoon like crazy.”

Scott laughs, getting into the passenger side of the Jeep.

“Hey, uh, wanna hang at my place today?” Scott asks. Stiles wants to burst out laughing ‘cause honestly, _there it is_.

Swallowing his laughter and fighting back a smile, Stiles responds, “You sure dude?” while he turns on the car.

“Oh, totally,” Scott says back. “Honestly, I’m making such a big deal out of nothing. Obviously you’re not gonna like _leave me for my brother_. Especially after you saw what an ass he was at that dinner.”

Stiles looks ahead at the pavement as he drives out of the parking lot.

“Haha, yeah, total ass,” Stiles says, trying so hard not to go to the bad place he could from hearing _ass_ in a sentence about Derek. Because, holy fuck, that man’s ass... “So, let’s do this, then.”

***

At the McHale’s house, Melissa is home, busy with paperwork spread out on the kitchen table, her glasses perched at the end of her nose.

“Hey fellas,” She says after looking up briefly to see who it is. “Happy to see you here, Stiles.”

“Happy to be here,” Stiles straight up lies. More like, _absolutely dying here because your eldest son turns me on like no other._

Melissa smiles into her paperwork and Scott grabs them two sodas from the fridge.

“Living room?” He asks Stiles. Stiles nods.

“After you, Scotty,” Stiles says, motioning for Scott to lead the way.

Scott sets up his Xbox and hands Stiles a controller as Stiles sits down on the couch.

“Um, what do you think you’re doing,” Scott says to him, still holding Stiles’ controller out to him.

“Uh... Sitting? You good, dude?”

Scott laughs. “Nahhh, I’m messing with you. But that’s where I usually sit, you sit on the other side in Derek’s spot.”

Stiles forces a laugh slides across the couch. Yeah, putting his butt where Derek’s butt usually is is totally no problem. No problem at all.

The boys start to play and about an hour and a half later, the front door opens. Stiles can’t see the door directly from where he’s sitting, but he sees the shape of a person entering the house reflected on the TV. _Derek_.

“Mom?” Derek yells once he’s inside.

“In here!” Melissa replies. Stiles listens closely to Derek walking into the kitchen, but once he’s there, Stiles can’t pick up on any conversation. He tries to just focus on the game, but, come on. Stiles has grown up around cops and deputies. Curiosity-bordering-on-nosiness is practically in his blood.

“Hey, pause, gotta urinate,” Stiles says to Scott. Scott makes a face.

“Okay, yeah.”

Stiles gets up and heads to the bathroom, but doesn’t go inside. He walks up to the corner before the kitchen. And listens.

“Derek, I don’t understand,” Stiles hears Melissa say, voice much more stern that when he had been over for dinner.

“Mom, calm down,” says Derek’s voice. It breaks Stiles’ heart a little bit, hearing Derek upset. He can’t help but compare this Derek to the one he’d seen in that picture in the locker room.

“Don’t tell me to calm down! I’m just trying to understand. I switched around my schedule, bothered my coworkers--all so I could go to your games! And now you’re telling me you don’t want me there?”

“It’s not that I don’t want you there,” Derek replies. “I’ve just gotten used to you not being there, and I think it might stress me out.”

“ _Stress you out_?” Melissa says incredulously. “Derek, honey, I love you, and I believe in you, but if I stress you out, how are you gonna deal when the USC scouts come?”

Stiles doesn’t hear anything for a couple seconds. When Derek finally replies, his voice is small and quiet.

“Mom. Please.”

Melissa take a deep breath. “Fine, Derek. Fine.” Stiles hears her footsteps as she walks out of the other entrance to the kitchen. Stiles suddenly starts flailing around when he realizes he has to get his butt out of there before--

“Jesus, Stiles,” Derek says, obviously spooked by seeing someone waiting around the corner like a psychopath.

“Sorry, I--” Stiles can’t find his words. Fuck, fuck, fuck, Derek’s face is so nice to look at. “Bathroom?” He finally says, pretending he had just gotten lost.

Derek just points to the door right behind Stiles that is so obviously the bathroom and walks past him to go upstairs. It takes everything in Stiles not to turn around and watch him go.

In the bathroom, Stiles tries to process what he overheard. Something is definitely up when it comes to Derek and lacrosse.

***

Stiles doesn’t make the lacrosse team. The list goes up at the end of the day on Friday and if it weren’t for the ridiculous rush of people, Stiles wouldn’t have remembered at all. He approaches the list calmly, unlike literally everyone else, and when he finally gets to the front of the crowd, he can’t find his name.

A tiny part of Stiles is disappointed. He really does miss the rush of competing that he hasn’t been able to feel since New York. But like 98% of him is beyond relieved. He definitely dodged a large, humiliating bullet.

Stiles lingers at the list for a second, looking down it one more time, when he realizes something.

Derek isn’t on it either.

Huh.

He knows the people who are currently on the team are on the list because he spots some senior’s name he heard Danny and Ethan gossiping about.

Is... Derek not on the team anymore?

Stiles would think that maybe Derek isn’t on the list because he’s captain, so maybe he’s an exception, but Stiles isn’t dumb. He knows something is off. Between this, Derek being MIA at tryouts, Derek not wanting Melissa to come to his games, him changing the subject when lacrosse comes up...

Yeah, _woah_. Derek isn’t on the team anymore. And Stiles knows before Melissa does. _And Scott._ Shit, shit shit. The last thing Stiles needs is a another Derek-shaped-secret to keep from Scotty.

Did Derek quit? What happened? And more importantly... why is it such a secret?

Some eager freshman not-so-subtly pushes Stiles out of the way and Stiles moves willingly.

He walks in a Derek-daze to his Jeep, his mind rattling trying to figure it all out. He’s in the driver’s seat with his seatbelt on when he realizes he forgot all of his textbooks that he needs for homework this weekend in the cafeteria--because apparently he’s an actual idiot--so he’s out of the car as fast as he got in.

Stiles feels a burst of pride when he realizes he knows a shortcut to the cafeteria from the parking lot. Like hell yeah, he’s finally getting acclimated to this freaking town and its ridiculous maze of a school.

Stiles is half way through the art wing when--hold the phone--was that _Derek_?

Stiles retreats a few steps and aligns himself with the skinny window of the door he had just passed.

Holy... god.

It is Derek. Drawing.

He is set up at an easel--a mother fucking easel, like people actually use those?--his hand gliding over canvas with so much ease and passion it makes Stiles' stomach churn. Both of Derek’s forearms and his plain white t-shirt are covered with charcoal smears and, when Derek wipes some glistening sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, his face bares matching marks.

Stiles can’t see what Derek is creating on the canvas since Derek is technically facing the door, but Stiles is totally fine with just openly staring at Derek. His eyebrows are drawn tight in concentration and his tongue--fuck, his _tongue_ \--is resting in the corner of his mouth absentmindedly.

Stiles stands in front of the closed door and just straight up _ogles_. This Derek compared to the lacrosse Derek he’d seen in the photo, is like Derek 2.0. He looks so _real_ , so genuinely at peace in a way Stiles could never even imagine being. How can he be drawing art if he is literally art himself?

Holy fuck, Stiles is so gone on Derek. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Stiles feels his tongue unconsciously dart out from between his extraordinarily dry lips to wet them. Just as his tongue is finding its way around his mouth, his mother fucking _phone_ beeps. Derek shifts his eyes to see Stiles at the door. He rolls his eyes as if it's a Stiles-reflex of his.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, fuck, fuck fuck.

Stiles’ eyes widen and he instantly swivels to press his back against the wall next to the door, pulling himself out of Derek’s field of vision. He realizes how fast he’s breathing when he stills himself, having to catch his breath.

Jesus christ, can Stiles get through one day without pulling a totally dipshit move in front of Derek?

Stiles turns on his heels and makes a break for it in the direction that he came in. He drives home in an almost hypnotic state, only realizing that he still doesn’t have his textbooks when he crashes down into his bed. He checks the message that had totally exposed him back at the school. It’s from Scott.

**Scott (Fri 2:46 PM): DUDE i made the fucking BASEBALL TEAM!!!!!!!! COME OVER AND CELEBRATE NOWWWW**

Stiles smiles despite himself--he is really stupidly proud of his best friend-- but he even can’t think in full, coherent thoughts, only--

 _Derek, artist, beautiful, artist, draws, Derek, hands, hands, hands, secret_.

Stiles finally understands why Derek quit the lacrosse team. And more importantly, why he thinks he can’t tell his family.

***

Two hours later, Stiles sits in Derek’s spot on the McHale’s couch while he absolutely crushes Scott at Call of Duty.

“Dude, are you even trying?” Stiles laughs. “This is too easy.”

“Oh, fuck you.” Scott returns. They keep their eyes on the screen as they talk. “Watch your back.”

“Ohhh, and he tries his hand at smack talk... a valiant effort, Scotty.”

“Remind me why I hang out with you?”

“Cause I’m fucking awesome.”

“More like fucking awful.”

Stiles lets out an easy laugh.

Scott opens his mouth, but is interrupted by some NPR type shit blaring from the kitchen.

“Mom!” Scott hollers. “Can you turn that down?”

“Can you turn _that_ down?” Melissa yells back.

“I have a friend over! My noise is me socializing!”

“I make you dinner and pay the bills! My noise is me winning! Now quiet, I can’t hear Renée!”

Scott aggressively rolls his eyes, but reaches for the remote and lowers the volume on the TV. Stiles feels a little winded from the comfortable mother-son rapport Scott and Melissa always seem to have, but he pushes that down and focuses on the game instead.

Stiles aims his on-screen gun at a what is supposed to be a terrorist (damn, this game has some questionable racial undertones...) when the door slams open, making Stiles miss his target. It’s Derek coming home. Stiles feels his presence pull at his gut like a weight. A really hot yet sensitive, _artist_ weight that he wants to sex up real good and then cuddle all night long. Ugh.

Stiles hears Derek toe his shoes off and then he walks through the living room, blocking the boys’ view of the TV for a second.

“Jesus, can you fucking move?” Scott snaps, moving around to dodge where Derek disrupts his view. Stiles, on the other hand, stares up at Derek, his eyes hungrily following him as he crosses the room. Derek is wearing a different shirt, one that’s no longer stained with charcoal, and looks freshly showered, as if he came straight from lacrosse practice. Oh, he’s _good_. Stiles can practically feel the arousal fuming off himself as his stomach growls with _want_.

Does Stiles have an unknown artist kink or is he just gayer than he thought?

Or is everything Derek does just hot as fuck.

The last one, it’s definitely the last one. Or maybe all three.

As Derek nears the other end of the room, he turns his head and his eyes meet Stiles’. Stiles accidentally licks his lips again--Jesus, he has to control that--while Derek tracks the movement with his eyes. Everything feels like it’s happening in slow motion. Until an obnoxiously loud explosion rings from the TV and Scott jump up to stand on the couch, doing a little victory dance.

“Fuck yeah! Suck my diiick!!!!” Scott singsongs from his standing position. Stiles looks up at him and laughs, holding up his hands in surrender.

“Damn, you got me good, Scotty.” Smiling, Stiles turns back to where Derek just was, but no longer is. Quickly he says, “But, uh, I gotta pee.” Stiles gets up and heads towards the bathroom, not hearing Scott’s “Man, you always pee at the worst times.” Only he doesn’t go to the bathroom. He follows where he heard Derek go--upstairs.

Stiles tiptoes up the carpeted steps and stands in front of Derek’s bedroom door. Without even thinking, he opens the door and walks in, immediately closing it behind him. He stands facing Derek’s bed with his hands still on the doorknob behind him.

Derek is sitting on his bed, untying his shoes. He doesn’t look up when Stiles comes in, doesn’t even _flinch_. Like he’s made of fucking stone or something.

Stiles strides across the room and sits next to Derek on his bed. The boys look in front of them, avoiding each other’s gazes. When Stiles speaks, his voice is hushed.

“So...”

“I quit the lacrosse team,” Derek says with a sigh, confirming Stiles’ suspicion.

“Yeah, and--”

“And I draw, Stiles.” Derek sounds irritated, but Stiles can see Derek’s shoulders visibly relax out of the corner of his eye when the words leave his mouth. “You can’t--no one can kn--” Stiles puts his hand on Derek’s knee hesitantly, expecting Derek to flinch or brush it away. But he accepts the gesture. Stiles lets that warm his heart a little bit.

“I wouldn’t tell anyone--I _won’t_ tell anyone,” Stiles whispers, and then he stands up and walks out of the room. He doesn’t have to turn around to know that Derek watches him leave--he can feel Derek’s gaze on his back like it’s burning through him.

Stiles closes the door behind him and tiptoes back downstairs, a small, pleased smile creeping its way onto his face.


	6. Chapter 6

When the weather slowly starts to cool, Melissa decides to have a barbeque in their backyard with basically everyone any McHale has ever interacted with. Everyone is there--Melissa’s coworkers, Allison, Stiles and John, everyone.

Obviously, this is a recipe for disaster--Stiles entering the belly of the beast unarmed and with his _father_ . He tries to imagine every possible thing that could go wrong. He doesn’t even think about the possibility of Derek building a fire, getting too hot and _taking his shirt off_.

The thought of that scenario doesn’t even cross his mind until he’s thrown head first into it.

Stiles is standing with Allison and Scott while they chat idly about straight people things. Stiles, however, is very openly leering at Derek’s glistening upper body. Like, he’s basically drooling.

Stiles’ dirty, dirty thoughts are interrupted by Scott’s voice.

“...drink?”

“Uh, what?” Stiles asks, having missed the entirety of what Scott had asked.

“Do you want another soda, dude? I’m going inside.”

“Oh, uh, uh... yeah, uh, thanks,” Stiles manages to get out. Scott raises his eyebrow at Stiles, but doesn’t say anything, just kisses Allison’s cheek and mutters “Be right back.”

Stiles doesn’t worry about being left alone in silence with Allison--most of the time he spends with her is them doing their own things, comfortable with the lack of conversation. So, needless to say, Stiles is shocked when Allison speaks.

“So, uh... Derek, huh?”

Like, really fucking shocked.

“What?”

Allison laughs, shaking her head. “I mean, I get it. The whole ‘forbidden older brother’ thing is kinda hot... Plus it doesn’t hurt that he’s, y’know...” She gestures to Derek’s beautiful masterpiece of a body, “that.”

Stiles sighs. He knows from his years of dealing with Lydia that there’s no point in trying to deny it.

“Please don’t tell Scott,” is all Stiles manages to say.

“Not my secret to tell,” Allison responds, grinning wildly. Damn, it’s so much like talking to Lydia it makes his head spin. He makes a mental note to call Lydia later, and then focuses on the cold soda can that Scott hands him when he returns to the group moments later.

***

Stiles’ mind is turning into a battlefield. He spends all of his time thinking about Derek. He would give his left arm to be able to touch Derek again, to feel the strong weight of Derek’s body on top of his, to feel close to Derek in a way that he’s craved for what feels like his whole life.

Following every yearning thought, however, is his own conscious smacking his hand away. He knows he needs to shut this down. He _knows_ this is exactly the opposite of putting his life back together in this new town that he and his dad had escaped to. He knows this is the opposite of how he should be treating his new best friend whom he actually cares about.

But he can’t help it.

He _wants_.

He wants so badly.

This weekend is Allison’s birthday--Stiles knows because Scott won’t shut up about it. He's been whining all week that Allison would know the _perfect_ gift to get Scott, but he has absolutely no idea what to do for her.

“Dude, I’m telling you. Just make her something or get her something small that has meaning. It doesn’t have to be a big deal,” Stiles tells Scott on Friday afternoon when they are hanging out in Scott’s kitchen.

“Yeah, but that’s the problem. I don’t have a sentimental bone in my body.”

“Okay, first of all, wrong,” Stiles responds. “You’re the sweetest nugget boy I know.”

“Uh...”

Stiles keeps going. “And second of all, don’t over think it.” Stiles thinks for a second. “Even just baking her a cake could be enough. Allison isn’t someone who needs a fucking spectacle. Just something simple.”

Just as Scott is about to answer, Derek waltzes into the kitchen. He’s wearing a dark green henley that looks unfairly incredible on him and Stiles feels winded for a second. Derek doesn’t look at the boys, just goes to the fridge and grabs an apple.

Stiles clears his throat, begrudgingly ranking his eyes off of Derek who has now taken a seat on a stool at the kitchen counter.

“Um, what were you gonna say?” Stiles manages to say.

“Yeah, what _were_ you gonna say?” Derek says with mock interest. Asshole.

“Asshole,” Scott mimics Stiles’ thoughts. For different reasons, probably. “Do you have to sit there while I’m talking to my friend?”

“It’s everyone’s kitchen, Scotty,” Derek says. Scott practically growls at the nickname. “I just want to eat my apple in peace.”

“Then do it in your peaceful room.”

“Scott,” Stiles says, and Scott shifts uncomfortably but nods, telling Stiles that he has his attention. Stiles tries not to think about Derek hearing every word. “What do... you think?”

“About baking her a cake?” Scott clarifies. Stiles nods in affirmation. “It’s a good idea, dude, there’s just no way in hell any cake I bake would be anything close to edible.”

“Ah, but fear not, young one,” Stiles says, wrapping an arm around Scott’s shoulders, ignoring the questioning look on Scott’s face. “I am a master baker.”

Derek makes a muted choking sound, while Scott just looks at Stiles and asks, “You’re a... what?”

Stiles huffs and pulls his arm back. He can’t help but smile.

“Seriously, I used to bake all the time with my mom. A cake? Easy peasy.”

Both McHale boys instantly give Stiles The Look™--eyes wide but kind, head reared back like they have no idea how to respond to Stiles talking about his mom. Stiles lets out a nervous chuckle.

“Bro, let’s bake her a fucking cake!” Stiles claps Scott on the shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah okay. Let’s do this.” Scott claps Stiles’ shoulder right back.

***

Stiles may have been a little generous with his confidence in Scott’s baking abilities. And also his own. He really did bake all the time with his mom, but that was before she got sick and that felt like a lifetime ago.

But, whatever. The boys charge head first into the task because Scott does admit, it is a really good idea. Allison will eat it up (literally).

Stiles gathers all the ingredients while Scott yells out where they are from his perch on top of the kitchen counter. _Derek_ , the asshole, is still at the counter with his dumb book. Stiles’ thoughts are cloudy and murky with him there, but he pushes through--for Scott.

“Ok, bowl me,” Stiles says, his hand out. Scott smiles and hands him a bowl like the good little helper he is.

“Spoon me.”

“Uhh...”

“Oh, just give me the spoon, Scott,” Stiles says, yanking the wooden spoon from Scott’s hand, who’s laughing hysterically while Stiles’ face turns bright red. Stiles lets his eyes flicker up to catch a glance at Derek, who’s smiling into his book. Stiles’ heart skips a beat. _He’s smiling._  Stiles made that happen.

Stiles’ eyes may have lingered a touch too long, because Derek looks up quickly, like he can feel Stiles’ attention on him. The boys hold each other’s gazes and Stiles knows it’s dumb, but he feels everything else melt away. Derek’s jaw is clenched tight with restraint, but his eyes show something kind and private. They then flicker down to Stiles’ mouth and back up to meet his eyes in a second. Something warm and nervous unfolds in Stiles’ stomach--something he’s knows he’s never felt before, but could be happy feeling it for a long fucking time.

And that’s when Scott decides to pour a trillion cups worth of flour into the bowl Stiles is holding. At full fucking speed. God bless his heart.

Before Stiles can do anything about it, he’s coated in flour. His black t-shirt and his jeans are no longer a black t-shirt and jeans--just shirt-and-jeans-shaped patches of flour.

Scott freezes, his hands still in pouring position.

“Ohhhh... dude,” Scott says. “I’m so sorry, I thought you were paying attention!”

Stiles lets out a slow and easy laugh.

“That’s totally my bad,” Scott continues, gesturing at Stiles’ shirt. “Here, take that off and go get one of mine from the laundry room."

“Ok, yeah, thanks.”

Without thinking, Stiles takes his shirt off and starts to wipe at his jeans where the flour has started to crust around the zipper. He’s picking at it when he turns around to leave the room and looks straight at Derek.

Derek who is totally wide eyed and openly staring at Stiles’ bare chest. When he rakes his eyes up to meet Stiles’, he coughs slightly.

“Uh, I gotta, um... bye,” Derek mutters as he excuses himself from the room--but not before Stiles notices the obvious tent in his pants.

“Ha, whatever,” Scott mutters right back from where he’s cleaning up the mess on the counter.

“Be right back, my dude,” Stiles says over his shoulder as he starts toward the laundry room.

But he doesn’t go inside.

Instead, he silently follows Derek’s path up the stairs. He pauses outside Derek’s room with his door on the handle before pushing it open. His jaw drops and his stomach churns once he’s inside.

“Stiles, seriously?!” Derek whisper-barks, rolling his head back from where he’s standing by his bed, jeans pushed down around his ankles, sturdy hand gripping his hard cock. “Close the door!”

Stiles, always one to be quick on his feet, takes this to mean close the door with himself on the inside of it, then kneel down in front of Derek and bat his hands away from his own dick.

“Stiles, we shouldn--” Derek stops when Stiles wraps a hand around Derek’s length.

“If you want me to stop, tell me,” Stiles looks up to Derek’s eyes, trying not to wonder where this sudden burst of confidence came from. “If this isn’t what you want, say so.”

Derek’s body relax and whispers, “Shit, Stiles.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes, it’s a fucking yes, just--”

Stiles does not need to be told twice. He lunges forward and wraps his mouth around the head of Derek’s dick, letting his tongue explore the tip. Derek gasps and Stiles takes that as a cue to go farther, taking in as much of Derek’s length as he can, pumping his hand along the base.

He hums at the feeling of Derek heavy and hot in his mouth and the vibrations from his throat cause Derek to thread his hands into Stiles’ hair.

Wanting to do _more_ \--touch _more_ \--Stiles brings his free hand around to grab at Derek’s bare ass, letting his fingernails dig into the flesh. He then brings the hand down to cup at Derek’s balls, letting the sensation add to Derek’s pleasure.

“Fuck, Stiles,” Derek whispers and Stiles finds himself wishing Derek would scream. Scream his name from every roof top, claim Stiles as his own.

But the reality of what this is--a fast, simple moment stolen in secrecy, one that could very much not be recreated again--sets in and Stiles’ determination to make this count arises.

Stiles moves quicker and harder, not easing up when he feels Derek pulling on his hair as a warning. Derek comes hot and hard down Stiles’ throat and Stiles laps up every last drop, licking up Derek’s length one more time.

He stands and bites his lip to suppress a smile when he sees Derek’s look of pure ecstasy. Stiles pats Derek on the arm and winks at him.

“Catch ya later, pal,” Stiles says as he heads to the door, urging his own erection to subside before he reaches Scott in the kitchen.

“This can’t happen again,” Derek says from behind him. “I mean it.” But, that’s the thing--he doesn’t. Stiles can hear the lightness in his voice because he feels the very same deep inside himself.

“Of course. Derek,” Stiles says before he closes the door behind him. He takes a deep breath and tiptoes back downstairs. He grabs a shirt from the laundry room, and then heads into the bathroom to flush the toilet so Scott will think he was just taking a shit or something. And not, well, blowing his rude older brother.

Stiles walks back into the kitchen to find Scott covered in butter and what looks like vanilla extract.

“Dude, thank god you’re back,” Scott says, sounding tired and confused. “I might have royally fucked this up.”

***

Later that night, Stiles is mercilessly beating Scott at Mario Kart when Scott pauses the game, jumping up.

“Dude, I totally forgot...!” He rushes over to his desk, rummaging through his backpack. “Guess what I bought from Greenberg today.”

“What?” Stiles asks, trying to see around Scott’s back what he pulls out of his bag. Scott turns around and shows Stiles a small ziplock bag with a joint in it.

“Scotty, my boy!” Stiles says, standing to clap Scott on the back. “You done good, pal.”

Scott laughs, grabbing a lighter from his bookshelf and heading over to his window.

“Do me a favor and grab that towel on my chair and put in under the door,” Scott instructs Stiles as he opens the window and lifts the screen.

“Your wish is my command,” Stiles responds, executing the task. Once he sits next to Scott at the window he can’t help but smile.

“Damn, I love you, bro,” Stiles says as Scott laughs and hands him the joint and the lighter.

“Love you, too, dude,” Scott responds. “Now let’s get fucked, yeah?”

***

Stiles, ever the lightweight, feels it immediately. He instantly needs to lie down when everything around him feels, like, really real.

“You good, bro?” Scott asks from the other side of his bed.

Stiles giggles. _Giggles_. “Never better.”

Scott laughs at him and lies down. “Shit, this indica strain makes me sleepy as fuck.”

Stiles rests his hand on his stomach and starts to rub lazy circles through his shirt. He can’t focus on anything else besides how good it feels. And then he remembers Scott said something.

“Oh, wait what?” Stiles asks, sitting up. But Scott is already sound asleep. Stiles looks from Scott to his door and back to Scott again. He pushes himself up and finds himself standing. He takes a second to blink his eyes into focus and let his feet feel grounded before walking towards the door.

As Stiles peels the door open, it makes a tiny creaking sound that he swears it’s never made before. The sound in reality is probably pretty quiet, but to Stiles’ ears it’s deafening. He immediately crouches low to the ground as to avoid Scott’s line of vision if he wakes up--which, of course, he doesn’t.

So, Stiles stands and gathers himself and walks across the hall in a short moment of sobriety.

But that feeling goes out the window once Stiles is in Derek’s room, standing by his bed where he’s sleeping underneath a thin sheet. Stiles knows on some level that what he’s doing is so fucking creepy and probably borderline illegal, but then he notices that he can see the outline of Derek’s thick dick because he’s absolutely, 300% naked.

“Oh, fuck you,” Stiles says at a normal volume. He claps his hand over his mouth immediately.

Derek stirs awake, slowly opening his eyes from where he’s lying on his back in his bed.

“Seriously, Stiles?” He groans, groggy from sleep.

“Don’t ‘seriously’ me. ‘Seriously’ yourself.” Stiles whisper-yells. He can tell he isn’t making complete sense, but figures that’s not nearly as important as Derek’s Magnificent Dick™ that is so close, yet _so far_. “You sleep naked? Fuck that.”

Derek seems to realize he’s not going to get any more sleep any time soon and sits up. Stiles watches as his body weights shifts on his hands and he wants more than literally anything to be touched by those hands right fucking now. He wants them roaming all over his body, wants to feel them slide up and down his cock, grip his ass, flick over his sensitive hole, slide a single digit inside, then two, then three, then--

“Did you want something Stiles?” Derek asks, pulling Stiles from his thoughts. Right in this moment, what Stiles wants is Derek’s body. He wants it more than anything he’s ever wanted. But he knows Sober Stiles, and even High Stiles, wants so so much more. He wants _Derek_ , not just Derek’s body.

“Not just your body!” Okay, so that’s kinda what he was trying to say.

“Uh... what.”

Stiles sits down on the bed, suddenly feeling very lightheaded.

“I don’t just want your body,” He tries again, but gets distracted by Derek’s beautiful skin... and neck... and shoulders... damn. “You’re beautiful, beautiful body.”

“Okay...”

“I want you, asshole,” Stiles spits out, then chokes on his laughter. “Haha, I want you, comma, asshole and I want _your_ asshole.” He flinches and swallows, noticing how incredibly dry his mouth is. “Oh my god, did I say that out loud.”

Stiles is removed from his moment of slight panic when he notices Derek is laughing. He points a finger in Derek’s face.

“Ha! See! I make you laugh,” Stiles says in an accusatory tone. Derek’s laughter dies down, but his smile stays--soft and kind. “Derek McHale. You like me.” Stiles doesn’t wait for Derek to confirm this, he can see it on his face. “You like me _and_ you want my asshole.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Derek says, shaking his head.

“Make me.”

“Jesus christ, it’s like you’re begging me to kiss you.”

“I am.” Stiles moves closer to Derek and starts to lean in. “Kiss me.”

Just then, he comes into contact with the moonlight that’s streaming in through the window and _shit_ it’s bright. He immediately recoils and basically hisses at the light. Like a fucking goblin. He’s suddenly unable to open his eyes.

“Fuck, are you high?” Derek asks.

“Maybe?” Stiles says from behind his hands. He removes them and gathers up the strength to slide back closer to Derek, somehow ignoring the light this time. “But it’s not just the weed talking. It’s the me.”

Derek huffs out a quiet laugh.

“I want this. I really want this.” Stiles’ face is inches away from Derek’s. He slides his closest hand to meet Derek’s growing erection, making his eyelids flicker. “And you clearly want this, too.”

Derek sighs, seemingly conflicted.

“You sigh a lot, don’t you?”

“Just kiss me.”

So he does. Stiles kisses Derek like he’s putting it all out there. Cause he kinda really is.

Derek pulls Stiles into his lap so Stiles is straddling him. Stiles can feel Derek’s erection rubbing at his ass through his boxers and the thin sheets. The contact combined with Derek slipping his warm tongue into Stiles’ mouth to slide against Stiles’ and Derek’s hands roaming under Stiles’ shirt makes Stiles groan--kinda really loud. But it feels _so_ fucking good, okay?

“Stiles, Stiles, you gotta be quiet. Scott’s across the hall.” Derek whispers.

“Fuck, fuck. Can’t. Feels too good. Fuck,” Stiles gets out, completely incoherently. He feels Derek smile against his lips. “Naked, make me naked.”

Derek doesn’t need to be told twice. He rips off Stiles’ shirt and manhandles Stiles to get his boxers off in a fashion that is far beyond Stiles’ mental capacity at the moment. And then he’s naked. With Derek.

They’re kissing again, their tongues passionately intertwining, hands flying everywhere. Derek breaks the kiss to pepper kisses down Stiles’ face and to his neck. He makes his way to Stiles’ ears and bites his earlobe, pulling it gently. Derek then licks a clean line up the length of Stiles’ neck. Stiles’ painfully hard dick is leaking all over Derek’s stomach, the friction not nearly enough for him.

“Ah, Derek, Derek, my dick.”

Derek huffs out a laugh next to Stiles’ ear.

“What about it?

“Touch it.”

“Ask nicely.”

“Fuck,” Stiles shudders. “Please touch my dick, Derek.”

Derek pulls away, looks Stiles dead in the eyes, and licks his own hand in preparation for Stiles’ dick. Stiles’ eyes roll back in his head. He’s seriously gonna die tonight. This would be too hot for him _sober_ \--add weed into the mix and he’s honestly just a goner.

When Derek’s hand finally meets Stiles’ dick, he has to bite his lips from screaming.

“Yeah, holy shit,” he mutters into the darkness. He closes his eyes and lets the sensation of Derek wrapped around his cock take over his entire body. Stiles can’t imagine anything better until Derek starts to pick up the pace.

“Oh my god, Derek, fuck me,” Stiles hears himself say. Derek’s pace on his dick slows down.

“Yeah? You want that?” Derek asks. Stiles knows he’s asking to make sure it’s what Stiles wants, but it comes out all dirty--him being Derek and all.

“Fuck, yes, fuck me, stretch me open and fuck me.”

Derek groans, low and hot and attacks Stiles’ mouth with his. They kiss for a second until Derek breaks away.

“There’s stuff in my nightstand, lemme grab it.” Derek pats Stiles’ thigh, motioning for him to shift so Derek can lean over to reach for it.

He opens a drawer and shuffles stuff around until he’s coming back with a bottle and a single condom. Stiles’ gut leaps with excitement--and a touch of nerves. But mostly excitement, Jesus, he wants Derek inside him, like, yesterday.

“How do you wanna do this?” Derek asks.

“Behind me, from behind.” Stiles read somewhere that it’ll hurt less. Whether that’s true or not is anybody’s guess, but he figures getting fucked from behind is hot as heck anyways.

Derek climbs behind Stiles and places his hand on Stiles’ back. He gently pushes Stiles forward until he’s on his elbows--ass sticking in the air.

“Fuck,” Derek whispers, his hands sliding over Stiles’ ass cheeks. “I just have to--”

He interrupts himself by leaning forward and swiping his tongue across Stiles’ entrance. Stiles lets out a sharp moan. Derek’s tongue keeps lapping across his hole.

“Derek,” Stiles moans his name and loves the way it feels rolling off his tongue. “Derek, shit, not gonna last long.”

Derek all but whines into Stiles’ ass, but pulls away. Stiles pushes back at the loss of touch, but his breath hitches when he feels a lubed up finger rubbing at his entrance the next second.

“You ever finger yourself, Stiles?” Derek whispers.

“Fuck, yes,” Stiles responds. “Basically every time I’ve showered since I met you--pretend it’s you--”

With that, Derek pushes in one finger. Just as he starts moving around, Stiles grunts.

“Another, another. I’m used to it.”

“So bossy,” Derek says, but complies. And  _fuck_ it feels good. The familiar sensation of being stretched making his dick grow impossibly harder, Derek’s fingers hitting places Stiles’ never could. And then Derek adds another, and Stiles pretty much sees stars.

“Shit, fuck me, I’m ready, Jesus.”

Stiles feels Derek retract his hands and he hears wrappers rustling as he rests his head on the pillow. All he feels throughout his whole body is want. Want, want, want.

And that’s when he feels Derek start to line himself up against Stiles’ entrance.

“Derek, please, oh my god,” Stiles starts to beg. He hears Derek huff out another laugh, but he complies and starts to push himself into Stiles.

“Oh, shit,” Stiles moans, probably a little too loudly, and Derek lightly pinches his hip as a warning to be quieter. Stiles scoffs.

“Just fuck me, dude, or I will actually scream,” Stiles jokingly warns.

Derek then pushes his length all the way into Stiles’ entrance, slowly and carefully. Once he’s inside, he pauses to let Stiles get used to the feeling of being completely stretched open. It’s definitely uncomfortable at first, but then Derek leans down, covering Stiles’ back with his torso, and licks at Stiles’ neck. The switch in Derek’s position shifts his dick’s angle inside Stiles and hits a spot Stiles swears he didn’t know was there.

“Holy fucking--” Stiles’ breath hitches. “Move, fuck... _move_.”

With that, Derek slowly pulls his hips backwards, and then forwards again. The first couple of thrusts are painfully slow, but when Stiles emits a tiny, greedy whine, Derek picks up the pace.

“Fuck, you feel so good, Stiles,” Derek whispers into Stiles’ ear. The hot air against the side of his face is so fucking hot and Derek starts thrusting even harder. “You’re taking me so well.”

“Jesus-- _Derek_.”

Derek steadies himself with one hand on the bed and reaches with the other to meet Stiles’ dick. He starts to pump Stiles’ length, matching each movement to his thrusts.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s good,” Stiles moans, biting his lips. “So good.”

“I’m close,” Derek warns into Stiles’ ear again.

“Yeah, yeah, keep going,” Stiles can’t speak coherently. Each time Derek fucks into him, hitting that spot just right, Stiles wants to scream with pleasure. “Fuck me, fuck me, Derek.”

With that, Derek explodes, biting Stiles’ shoulder, his breathing completely erratic. As his thrusts slow down, they get more intense and when he swipes his thumb over the top of Stiles’ dick, Stiles’ vision blurs with ecstasy as he comes hard into Derek’s hand. Derek pumps him through his orgasm, slowly and sweetly.

When Derek pulls out, Stiles collapses onto the bed, feeling completely sober. Derek ties off the condom and tosses it in his trash, falling onto the bed next to Stiles. Stiles’ eyes flutter closed. He feels happiness in deep, deep throughout his body, in all of his bones. I got the guy, he can’t help but think as he begins to drift off into sleep.

His sleep is halted, however, by Derek’s voice cutting through the silence.

“Stiles, I can’t sleep with you.”

Stiles turns over to see Derek sitting up against his headboard. Stiles sits up onto his knees next to him.

“Uh... sorry but you just did?” Stiles doesn’t understand. Derek huffs and Stiles realizes how conflicted and... sad his face looks.

“No, I--” Derek starts. “You can’t fall asleep in here. Scott could find out and I--”

“You what?”

“Stiles, if we fall asleep together, it’s only a matter of time before I’m with you and _dating_ you and I then I could... fall...”

Stiles’ heart skips a beat.

“Would that be such a bad thing?” He waits for the answer. _Years_ pass.

It doesn’t come.

Stiles doesn’t wait another moment. His body goes straight into panic mode and flings himself out of Derek’s bed, gathering his boxers and his shirt from the floor.

“Yeah, got it,” Stiles mumbles under his breath as he pulls on his clothes while walking to the door.

He slams it shut behind him and pauses outside in the hallway. It all happened so fast, his head is reeling. As he steps forward towards Scott’s room, the door opens and sleepy Scott appears.

“Stiles? You good, dude?”

Stiles chokes back tears as he forces a smile onto his face.

“Yeah, dude, all good. Let’s sleep, yeah?”

The boys fall into their designated sleeping spots and once Stiles can hear the telltale sound of Scott’s light snores, he finally lets out a silent sob that’d been waiting and waiting in the back of his throat. He doesn’t get much sleep that night.


	7. Chapter 7

Weeks fly by without Stiles’ knowledge. He starts to cruise through the days again without much care or thought. But Stiles isn’t dumb--he knows that Scotty, and hell even Allison, care too much about him to not ask what’s wrong if they notice something is off. So Stiles does what he does best--smothers down his real feelings and puts on a smile for the people around him.

He falls into a routine pretty quickly. He talks animatedly with Scott and Allison at lunch, pretends (pretty well, if he says so himself) to care about what Danny and Ethan ramble on about during gym, and participates enough in the classes he cares about (i.e. everything except chemistry).

When Stiles gets home, though, his facade falters. He stalks up to his room, not trying as hard to throw a smile on for his father. John knows Stiles can get like this--let weeks pass without showing any true emotions while the real ones eat him up inside.

The Monday before Thanksgiving, Stiles goes straight home after school, turning his phone off to avoid Scott’s inevitable texts about hanging out. When he gets home, he walks in the front door and is immediately met by his dad. He’s a little jittery--a weird energy coming from him.

“How many cups of coffee today?” Stiles asks, raising an eyebrow. John ignores him.

“How was school?”

“Fine...”

“You got dinner plans?”

“No...”

“Cut that look, I’m just trying to engage with my son,” John says.

“Well, consider me engaged,” Stiles replies, sliding past the Sheriff. “I’ll be in my room, if you wanna finish the engaging later.”

“Sounds good, my man,” John yells after him as Stiles goes upstairs, wincing. He goes up to his room, his head down, and catches a pair of shoes next to his door--women’s shoes.

“Holy shit,” Stiles mutters before he opens his door to see Lydia sitting at his desk, her legs crossed and her glossy lips pursed into a smile like she’d been patiently waiting for hours. “What the fuck!”

She stands and they run to meet in the middle in a bone crushing hug.

“Holy shit,” Stiles mumbles again into her strawberry blonde hair.

“Hey you,” Lydia responds as they pull apart. She cups his face in her hands and examines his face in a way only she is allowed to do. “You look good, kid.”

“Fuck you, I’m two months older than you and you know it.”

“Hi, nice to see you, too,” Lydia retorts sarcastically.

“Hi, nice to see you,” Stiles says, rolling his eyes as he takes her hand and guides her to sit on his bed with him. “So...”

“Your dad flew me out.”

Stiles smiles and his heart clenches at how well his dad knows him. He’s the best dad anyone could ever wish for.

“And you can miss a couple days of school?”

“Please, that school misses me, not the other way around.”

“Very true, very true,” Stiles replies, examining her face and smiling even wider. “Shit, I am so happy to see you, Lyds.”

“I missed you too, Stiles.”

Stiles’ smile falters when his reality sets back in--his reality of wanting and wanting Derek McHale, but him always being just out of reach.

“So, you wanna tell me what’s been making you walk around in a cloud of self-pity the past couple weeks?” Lydia asks. The Sheriff clearly filled her in as to what’s been up in Beacon Hills.

Stiles tells her everything. He holds back tears as he tries to find words to do justice what he’s been feeling. His life just turned itself on its head, basically, and he didn’t realize how much he needed to get it all out.

After about an hour, they venture downstairs to the kitchen to find food. John is sitting at the kitchen table and looks up when they enter, smiling at the sight of the two of them together.

“You’re welcome,” John says. Stiles rolls his eyes but laughs as he bends down to hug his dad where he’s sitting.

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks, pops.”

Lydia sits down at the table on John's other side.

“Yeah, thanks, pops,” She imitates. Stiles laughs and walks over to the fridge.

“So, were you able to get what’s been bothering out of him?” The Sheriff asks Lydia, who smiles deviantly. Before Stiles can object, she’s responding.

“Yeah, it’s his massive crush on Derek McHale.”

“Lydia!”

The Sheriff chuckles and Lydia clicks her tongue.

“What? It’s not like he couldn’t tell. And he deserves to know,” She responds. John opens his beer and takes a sip.

“Kinda true and very true,” he mutters into the bottle.

***

Lydia may have been able to take three days off from school, but Stiles is not afforded that luxury. So, he is forced to go to school and leave her at home to fend for herself.

Which is a terrifying thought.

Lydia. Alone in his home. With the keys to his car. And a wide open schedule.

What’s even more terrifying is introducing Lydia to Allison. That much brain power and intensity should _never_ exist in one place at the same time.

And of course, they get along _swimmingly_. Scott, on the other hand, is scared shitless of her, and has been ever since Stiles told him the story of how she got everyone’s least favorite teacher fired in the _fourth grade_. But he seems to warm up to her after he catches how happy she makes Stiles.

Stiles, Lydia, Scott and Allison all hang out after the Beacon Hills kids get out of school Tuesday. Stiles drives them all in his Jeep to the center of town so they can show Lydia the lay of the land.

They drive down the main street and then sit at a picnic table in the tiny park, talking and laughing and eating a fair amount of ice cream. Lydia is just about to ask Allison about her family when she spots someone walking down through the park.

“Holy lord in heaven,” Lydia says, her predatory gaze narrowing in on the guy. “Break me off a piece of _that_.”

Stiles and Scott turn around to see Jackson fucking Whittemore walking down the cement path like he fucking owns the place, Jesus christ.

Allison lets out a roaring laugh when she sees the looks on the boy’s faces, while Lydia just continues to stare, twirling her plastic spoon in her mouth.

“That’s Jackson,” Stiles spits out the name, rolling his eyes. “He is douche personified, Lyds. Any piece you break off of him will taste like old money and children's tears.” Scott snorts in agreement and Lydia just hums around her spoon. She shifts her gaze to Stiles.

“Honey, my best wingman ditched me to move cross country, I haven’t gotten any since like _August_. Mama needs her sugar, okay?” Allison laughs and nods.

“Yeah, there’s no harm in her just hooking up with the guy. It’s not like she’ll ever have to see him again.” Lydia nods curtly in appreciation.

“Yeah, but it’s not like he’s just any douche. He’s always been awful to people like me and Stiles,” Scott chimes in.

“True, he is straight up bully,” Stiles adds.

“I don’t know, I just think hooking up with people that your best friend hates is kinda fucked,” Scott continues and Lydia shoots Stiles a look immediately. He looks back at her, trying to communicate that _he knows, he sees the irony in this moment too_ . All he wants to do is shake Scott and scream _SORRY I FUCKED YOUR BROTHER_ , but he decides against it. Instead, Stiles lets the guilt of knowing that what he did and what he feels is absolutely _wrong_ eat him up inside--while Lydia watches from across the table and Allison and Scott continue the Jackson debate.

***

Having Lydia with Stiles for Thanksgiving is a blessing. It’s his and John’s first Thanksgiving without Claudia and Stiles feels her loss like a gaping hole in his abdomen. But its helps to have someone else, basically another family member, to help them cook, hold his hand under the table, and smooth a hand down his back as he lets himself have a moment of weakness that night.

“Lydia?” Stiles asks as they are falling asleep.

“Yeah, honey?”

Stiles hesitates for a moment.

“What... what do you think my mom would think about me now?”

He hears Lydia sit up on the opposite side of the bed.

“How do you mean?”

He turns over onto his back and looks up at the ceiling.

“I mean... Do you think she’d be disappointed in me?”

“Stiles, what could possibly make you think that? How could that ever be true?”

“I don’t know, I... I ran away from my entire life back in New York. And in my new life, I’m this sad sack who spends all his energy wanting someone who he can’t have for every reason in the world. I just feel like I did something wrong, like I lost something...”

“Stiles, you did lose something. You lost your mom. And that’s not fair, it’s not something you can just bounce back from and have everything go back to normal. Leaving New York was the smartest thing I’ve ever seen you do.”

Stiles smiles into the darkness, letting his eyes fill up with tears as Lydia continues.

“And this whole thing with Derek... honey, your mom would not be disappointed in you. You fell for a guy you can’t have. You’re human. You’re not superman. She knows that.”

Stiles sighs. He hopes Lydia is right.

“I’m sorry you have to do this all without her, sweetie. I know it must be hard,” Lydia offers. Stiles smiles at her and reaches for her arm, squeezing gently.

“It could be worse.”

***

The weekend after Lydia leaves, Scott has the house to himself for a night and he invites Stiles and Allison over for a movie. It takes everything Stiles has not to ask where Derek is. He tells himself that it’s none of his business--Derek isn’t his, he doesn’t get to know where he is at all hours of the day.

The three of them are halfway through some randomly violent movie when Scott gets up.

“Gotta take a dump,” he says, stepping over everyone’s stretched out legs.

“Dude, your girlfriend is here,” Stiles says. Scott scoffs as he leaves the room.

Allison laughs and says, “I shit, too, Stiles.”

Before he has a chance to start to figure out how to respond to that, Allison grabs the remote and turns up the volume, scooching over on the couch until she’s right next to Stiles.

“Uh... hi?” Stiles says, confused.

“You need to talk to him.”

Stiles swallows. “What?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“Do... you know what you’re talking about?” Stiles asks. Allison just stares at him. “Dammit, Lydia,” he mutters.

“She could tell I knew you like him--she’s like scary observant,” Allison responds.

“Don’t I know it.”

“And she thought someone here should know what’s up.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. He knows Lydia is right, but still... _dammit Lydia_.

“You need to talk to him. For some reason, you two just make sense. Derek’s been considerably more tolerable ever since you came around, even _Scott’s_ noticed. It’ll work out, you just need to get over yourself and talk to him.”

“That’s exactly what Lydia said.”

“She knows what’s up,” Allison says, preening.

“Ok, but even if it does work out, Scott--”

“That’s not an excuse and you know it,” Allison replies. “You and Scott are like, friend soulmates. He would never stand in the way of your happiness. Even if that means his brothers dick up your ass...” Stiles huffs out a laugh. “Just maybe don’t be so explicit about that last part--”

“Explicit, huh?” Scott says as he comes back into the room. “Did I miss something good?”

***

Stiles spends the entire next day staring at his phone, trying to draft a text to Derek. He sits in his bed with a travel mug of coffee and a family sized bag of Doritos and writes notes on his phone full of reasons why Derek should be with him. They range from _I make you laugh_ to _I want to keep all your secrets_ to _The sex is fucking mind blowing_. He spends the whole day inside his head, dreaming up ways to get Derek back--or not even get him _back_ , but _get him_ in the first place. Allison and Lydia were right--Derek and Stiles just make sense, but Stiles realizes that he only knows it because of the feeling in his gut, not for reasons he can write out explicitly.

So, anyways, he spends all day drafting and then realizes that he doesn’t even have Derek’s number.

Because of course he doesn’t.

Stiles then spends all night trying to find the guy online--Facebook, Twitter, he even makes a MySpace ‘cause, hey, the guy’s basically from a different time, maybe he’s still stuck in the past? But no luck. Stiles can’t find him anywhere. So he goes to bed with a phone full of reasons and a head full of doubt.

***

The next day at lunch, Stiles and Allison are sitting together in silence. Scott had to make up a lab for chemistry with Mr Harris since his baseball coach made him skip a class to go to an away game. It was a whole mess, but at least Stiles and Allison get to have a silent lunch again.

Allison is reading some French book about lycanthropy, whatever the hell that is, and Stiles is frantically trying to finish his Econ homework, when his phone buzzes. He looks over and sees a text from an unknown number.

**Unknown (Mon 12:42 PM): Come to the art studio**

Stiles’ heart stops. His pencil falls from where he was holding it between his teeth and Allison looks up at him from a couple seats over.

“What is it?”

“I dunno, but I think it’s Derek?” Stiles shows her the text.

“Duh, that’s Derek!” She slaps his arm. “Respond!”

**Stiles (Mon 12:45 PM): who is this**

“You’re an idiot,” Allison scoffs.

“What, I gotta play it cool!” Stiles replies.

“He’s seen you naked, that’s not really an option anymore.”

Before Stiles can be insulted, his phone buzzes.

**Unknown (Mon 12:46 PM): Derek**

**Stiles (Mon 12:47PM): Idk if it's a good idea**

**Unknown (Mon 12:47 PM): Shut up and just come**

**Unknown (Mon 12:47 PM): Please.**

Stiles looks at Allison who is trying to keep a neutral face and is failing miserably.

“What do I do?” Stiles asks, abandoning all hope of remaining cool.

“Obviously go! Go!” Allison says, all but shooing him away from their table.

“Okay, okay, I’m going!” Stiles scoffs, getting up and straightening his clothes. “Sheesh, woman.” But he smiles as Allison watches him walk away, feeling lucky to have her in his life.

The walk to the art wing feels like miles even though it only takes about two minutes. When Stiles walks into the art studio he caught Derek in weeks ago, he sees Derek sitting on a table, his hands running up and down his thighs nervously. Stiles’ stomach flips inside him and he subconsciously runs his fingers through his hair. Derek looks up when he hears him coming in and their eyes meet. Stiles’ breath stutters at the feeling of having Derek’s eyes on him.

“Hi,” Derek says.

“Hi.”

Stiles walks hesitantly over to Derek.

“What’s u--”

“I got into the Rhode Island School of Design.”

Stiles forgets himself and leaps over to Derek, stopping before they are within touching distance.

“What--Derek! That’s awesome! I didn’t even know you applied!”

Derek swallows.

“Yeah, no one does.”

“What?”

“Everyone thinks I’m waiting to hear back from USC. For lacrosse.” Derek doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Derek, you gotta tell your family...”

“I will,” Derek says. He lifts his head to look at Stiles and reaches his arm out to sweetly grab at Stiles’ wrist. “I wanted to tell you first.”

A tiny, hesitant smile creeps across Stiles’ face.

“You want me and my asshole.”

Derek huffs, rolling his eyes. But he’s smiling.

“Jesus christ, Stiles.” His mouth moves as if something is waiting to jump off his tongue. Something Stiles knows he wants to hear more than anything.

Stiles’ heart is beating at an alarming rate when he says, “Say it, Derek.”

Derek stands up, pulling them closer together. Even though they’re basically the same height, it still feels like Derek is towering over him.

“Stiles, I wanna be your boyfriend.”

Stiles audibly gasps, taking a step back. “That was _not_ what I was expecting.”

“Well, what the hell were you expecting?”

“I don’t frickin’ know! Not that!” Stiles flails his arms.

“Is that a no?”

Stiles’ eyes widen and he doesn’t hesitate for a second before he leaps into Derek, crashing them both onto the table behind him.

“No, it’s not a no, you shitface!” Stiles says, peppering his mouth with kisses. He’s straddling Derek’s lap while Derek sits up on the table’s edge, holding Stiles’ thighs in his hands. “Shoot, I'm gonna date the pants off you.”

Derek hums into his mouth. “I like the sound of that.”

“Oh, do you?”

Stiles slides his tongue into Derek’s mouth to deepen the kiss. They kiss like this for a minute before an unhappy memory dances into Stiles’ mind. He pulls away.

“Wait,” He says, not moving from his place on Derek’s lap. “What happens if you... y’know, ‘ _fall... dot dot dot_.’”

It takes Derek a second to realize he’s referencing what Derek said the night they last saw each other. He sighs with what feels like regret and pulls Stiles’ hand up to his mouth to kiss it gently.

“I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“...When?”

Derek nods. Stiles feels like he is about to explode with pure joy as he lunges forward to smash their mouths together again.

So of course, that’s when a custodian walks in.

“Hey, you boys better go do that somewhere else,” She says. “The kids have to draw on those tables.”

Stiles and Derek look at each other and hold in their laughter. They get their things and walk out of the room.

In the hallway, students are rushing to get to their next classes.

“So, uh,” Derek says, putting his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “I’ll text you?”

Stiles feels butterflies rise in his stomach. “How very _boyfriend_ of you.” Derek rolls his eyes. “You know, one day your eyes are gonna get stuck up there.”

“I made a huge mistake just now, didn’t I,” Derek scoffs, teasing. Stiles can’t help but laugh.

“Text me, I will text you back. Sweetie,” Stiles tries out, as they both start to walk in opposite directions.

“No pet names,” Derek says.

“Whatever you say, my prince!”

***

Derek keeps his word. They text all throughout the rest of the day and through the night, too. They don’t actually talk about anything--Stiles asks Derek questions about his math homework that he finished in class and how to make microwave popcorn on his microwave with a **Popcorn** button, and Derek sends back curt responses that make Stiles shake with happiness.

For dinner, Stiles makes him and his dad some veggie burgers and they eat them at the kitchen table while Stiles asks the Sheriff about his day.

“What’s up with you?” John asks after a story about an incompetent deputy and a dead fish that Stiles didn’t really follow.

“What? A son can’t ask his dad about his day? His dad with a riveting and important job?”

The Sheriff narrows his eyes at him. “Not if the son hasn’t said more than six words a day for the past 3 weeks.”

“What, hey! That’s not true.”

John just looks at him with a calculating look.

“Any news on the whole...” John gestures vaguely with his right hand. “... Derek front?”

“Dad...” Stiles groans into his burger.

“I’m just curious!” John says. “Lydia says I have a right to know more about my son’s life.”

“Oh, does she now?” Stiles says, putting his burger down. “You do know that she’s my friend, right? And not yours?”

“Hey,” John replies. “I have my own adult friends, thank you very much. But Lydia is right. I wanna know about this... I think.”

Stiles smiles down into his lap when he thinks about what ‘this’ is. Boyfriends. Derek McHale is his boyfriend.

“I saw that, Stiles,” John says. “What’s going on?”

Stiles' heart hammers in his chest when he mutters, “Derek is my boyfriend.”

“Speak up, son.”

“Derek and I are dating,” Stiles says at a louder volume. “Or, gonna date. I dunno. We’re together. As of lunch today.”

John leans back in his seat and huffs, letting a smile creep onto his face. The smile falls suddenly, before he says, “Do we need to buy you, um, you know...”

Stiles stands up suddenly, grabbing his plate to bring it to the sink. “You know what, Dad? We don’t have to talk about that. Ever. Let’s not have that conversation ever.” He puts his dish in the dishwasher and heads for the stairs. “Goodnight, pops!”

“That wasn’t a no, Stiles!” The Sheriff yells after him. Stiles tries not to gag as he closes his door for the night.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok i was pretty high when i wrote most of this chapter, so im sorry if its fuckin weird ok  
> but ty for all your kind words and kudos!!! :)))

The next day at lunch, Scott is back from chem prison. He and Allison are being gross and mushy as always, but Stiles doesn’t seem to mind today. He doodles on a notebook like a lovesick teenager and lights up when his phone buzzes. He has a text from **Lydia Marfin** \--his code name for Derek. He figures if Scott sees that he won’t notice the difference from Lydia Martin and he’ll think he’s just texting his friend. Yeah, he knows, it’s really smart.

**Lydia Marfin (12:33 PM): Get in my car after school. Parked by the back entrance**

Stiles can’t contain his smile as he texts back.

**Stiles (12:33 PM): is that a euphemism? ;)**

**Lydia Marfin (12:34 PM): It can be.**

Stiles poorly suppresses his nervous laughter, pulling Scott from his Allison-induced haze.

“Ooooh, who ya texting?” Scott asks, clearly suspecting something. Allison stamps on his foot under the table. “Ow?!”

“Lydia,” Stiles says, quickly flashing his phone to Scott. Scott raises an eyebrow.

“Dude, are you sure you’re, like, all gay?” Scott asks. “‘Cause it kinda seems like there's something there.” He gestures to the phone and Allison stamps on his foot once more. “What!” He mutters towards her.

“ _Ew_ , Scotty, _no_ ,” Stiles responds, completely repulsed. “That’s like me asking if there’s anything going on between you and Derek.” Allison flashes him a _really?_ face and Scott mimes a gag.

“What the hell. That’s nasty, dude.”

“Exactly.”

***

The rest of the school day drags on at the slowest pace known to mankind. Stiles just barely makes it through and he can’t breathe by the time he finds himself buckling into the passenger seat in Derek’s (ridiculous) Camaro, leaning over the console to kiss his boyfriend.

“Hi,” Stiles mumbles against Derek’s lips.

“Hi yourself,” Derek says, lifting a hand to cup Stiles’ cheek. They kiss slow and sweet until Derek pulls away, clearing his throat and starting the car.

“So, whaddya got planned, sourwolf?” Stiles asks as Derek pulls out of the parking lot. He rolls his eyes at the nickname but answers anyways.

“Not much of anything, actually. I just thought since Scott has baseball every day after school, we could optimize our time.”

“In a naked way?” Stiles asks.

Derek lets out a small laugh and nods, stealing a glance in Stiles’ direction. “Whatever you want.”

“Well, my dad’s working ‘til like 10 tonight, so...”

“So... guess we’re going to your place?” Derek grins. Stiles matches the expression and gives him the quickest directions he can think of.

By the time they park a couple houses away, walk to Stiles’ house and get up the stairs and onto Stiles’ bed, he’s _crazy_ out of breath.

“Oh my god,” Stiles exhales between kisses. “Why you ever do anything else besides kiss me is beyond me.”

“Same,” Derek whispers. They kiss fast and sloppily, like they’ve been waiting for this all day. But to be fair, they have.

Stiles grips at Derek’s torso that is hovering above him, supported by Derek’s elbows. Derek fingers through Stiles’ hair until he yanks on it, making Stiles’ head turn and giving him access to Stiles’ neck. He licks a straight path up it and then starts to suck a mark behind Stiles’ ear when Stiles’ phone starts to ring from his nightstand.

“You gonna get that?” Derek asks, nipping and pulling at Stiles’ earlobe with his teeth.

“Yeah, _fuck_ ,” Stiles moans. “Hand it to me.”

Derek complies and hands Stiles his phone and returns to his neck as Stiles answers.

“Hello?”

“Hey!” Scott’s voice rings from the receiver. “I got out of practice early and I saw your car in the parking lot, you wanna give me a ride home?”

Stiles can’t think for a second because Derek’s hand finds its way up his shirt and starts rubbing at one of his nipples.

“Oh, sorry,” Stiles breathes out, his voice gravelly and uneven. “My car was being really weird, I couldn’t get it started...” He trails off when Derek bites at his pulse point.

“So you ran home?”

“What?”

“You’re like super out of breath, dude, did you run home?” Scott responds.

“Ah, no... yeah I went for a little run,” Stiles musters up some words.

“Ok, um... Are you good, dude?” Scott wonders. “I feel like we haven’t talked in a while, is everything okay?” Stiles pushes Derek off with a silent laugh and the two sit up next to each other. Stiles tries not to look at Derek’s kiss-swollen lips or his messed up hair.

“Yeah, sorry, bro,” Stiles says once he’s collected himself. “I’m totally great, but I miss you, too. Hang soon?”

“Yeah, totally,” Scott replies. “See you tomorrow, dude.”

“Bye,” Stiles says and hangs up. He looks at Derek who is sitting against Stiles’ headboard, a farout look in his eyes.

“Scott can’t know,” Derek says. Stiles doesn’t know if he’s telling Stiles or himself. Or both. “At least for now. We gotta keep it a secret.”

“You’re right,” Stiles says, curling up under Derek’s arm, his head resting on Derek’s shoulder. “But on the bright side... sneaking around will make this like _super_ hot.” He hears Derek scoff above him.

“Like you need anything else making you hotter,” Derek mumbles into Stiles’ hair.

Stiles sit up.

“Derek McHale, was that a compliment?” Stiles teases. Derek rolls his eyes.

“Shut up,” Derek huffs as he climbs on top of Stiles, laying him down with his body on top of Stiles’. “Do you want me to blow you or not?”

“Yes, yes, definitely yes.”

***

As days pass, Stiles and Derek become much more crafty about their sneaking around. They coordinate who drives to school on which days while the other person mooches a ride off of someone so neither of their cars are left behind while they get it on at Stiles’ house. After, Stiles drives Derek home but parks a couple streets over so they can say a proper goodbye without running the risk of getting caught.

Because they’re Boyfriends. Stiles will never get tired of saying that Derek McHale is his boyfriend.

Not that he gets to say it out loud that often, because Derek McHale is his _secret_ boyfriend. Stiles tries not to think about that part as much, because the thought of what it could do to Scott if-- _when_ \--he finds out makes him want to die.

At one point over the next couple of days, Scott asks Stiles how his car is doing during gym class.

“What?” Stiles responds, confused.

“Your car?” Scott says again. “Wasn’t it acting up the other day?”

“Oh, right, yeah,” Stiles says, picking up a ball that was thrown in their direction and halfheartedly tossing it back. “It needed a new catalytic converter. No biggie.”

Scott, who clearly doesn’t know what a catalytic converter is, drops it after that.

Two weeks pass of Stiles and Derek sneaking over to Stiles’ after school until the time that Derek would normally get out of lacrosse practice rolls around. Sometimes they’ll plan it so it looks like a coincidence that Derek is coming home at the same exact time that Stiles is coming over to hang with Scott (and sometimes Stiles will excuse himself from their video games to make out with Derek in his room (but that’s neither here nor there)).

In those weeks, Stiles is as happy as he could ever imagine being. Not only is his dick catching up to its 16 years of negligence, but Derek is actually starting to open up to him.

A week and a half into their routine, Derek tells Stiles about his day _without Stiles asking him first_. The day after that, Derek shows Stiles the piece he’s been working on at school. It’s a charcoal drawing of Melissa--a profile of her face with the most beautiful laugh lines Stiles has ever seen. It’s simple and true and astounding and Stiles’ heart clenches because Derek is the most talented man on earth and he’s all his.

Stiles opens up to Derek, as well. He tells him things he hasn’t told Scott yet, and some things he’s never even told Lydia. Stiles tells Derek little stories about his mom when they’re relevant, and some when they’re not.

For the first time since she passed, Stiles thinks about his mom and feels a warmth inside himself. He still feels the familiar pang in his heart that he knows he always will, but now it’s accompanied by a loving and gentle fondness deep throughout his body.

Somehow, just by listening and smiling (Jesus christ, what a beautiful smile), Derek helps Stiles to feel a light in his life that he hasn’t been able to feel since he lost his mom. And he owes Derek the world for that.

***

One Friday afternoon, the boys are at Stiles’ house, their limbs intertwined as they lay together in Stiles’ bed, hands lazily tracing each other’s sides while they talk.

“So, did Scott tell you my mom has the graveyard shift tonight?” Derek asks. Stiles groans.

“Ugh, _yes_ ,” Stiles responds. “It was all I heard about all day. He’s spending the night at Allison’s.”

Derek doesn’t say anything for a second. A very interesting fact dawns on Stiles.

“So... you’ll have the house all to yourself?” Stiles asks.

“I’ll have the house all to myself...” Derek mimics. Stiles sits up and looks at Derek.

“Are you gonna invite me over or what?”

“Would you like to come over tonight, Stiles?” Derek asks. Stiles leaps to him.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Stiles muses, peppering Derek with kisses.

***

That night, after a shower and a lengthy pep talk in the mirror, Stiles heads to his car. He texts his dad that he’s gonna sleep at Scott’s house--content with himself that he didn’t actually have to lie to him--and drives the familiar route to the McHale residence.

When Stiles gets there, he knocks but no one answers. Confused, he lets himself in and follows the noises to the kitchen, where he finds Derek cooking _in an apron_.

“Hi honey, I’m home,” Stiles teases, but his heart jumps at how domestic it all feels. He tries to push down the feeling of wanting to come home to Derek every day.

Derek turns around, his face pleasantly surprised. He clearly didn’t hear Stiles come in.

“Hey, you,” He says sweetly, walking around the counter to place his hand on Stiles’ hip and pull him in for a kiss.

“Whatcha makin’, boyfriend of mine?” Stiles muses. He looks around to all the food and cooking utensils strewn about.

“Nothing fancy,” Derek says. “Pasta and meatballs. Wouldn’t want you to get the impression that I’m tryna spoil you.”

“Oh no, we definitely wouldn’t want that,” Stiles says as he takes a seat on a stool. Derek turns back to his cooking and starts to ask Stiles about his evening since they last saw each other. Stiles watches Derek cook and can’t help but think _mine_ . _He’s real and he’s mine_.

When the food is ready, they sit next to each other at the kitchen table. They start to eat their spaghetti, their knees and elbows brushing against each other as they eat.

“So... does your family know you cook?” Stiles asks, his mouth full of food. Derek gives him a suspicious look.

“I dunno? Probably not?”

Stiles shrugs. “Well, you know, the sooner you tell them, the better.”

Derek rolls his eyes. He gets what Stiles is hinting at.

“I’m gonna tell them about RISD. I will. I just need some...”

“I know,” Stiles says, placing his hand on top of Derek’s where it's resting on the table. “I know, but... you do know that this is good news, right? Who could possibly be upset at their smoking hot son or brother for being the most talented artist in the continental United States?” Derek flashes Stiles a smile.

“Your mind is kinda fucked up,” Derek says. Stiles throws his head back and laughs.

“Ohhhh, you have no idea.”

***

After they eat, they fall onto the couch.

“Thanks for making dinner, honey,” Stiles jokes as he intertwines their legs and reaches for the DVD on the table.

Before Derek can respond, Stiles gasps, sitting up straight.

“Oh my god,” Stiles says _maybe_ a hair too loudly. “Derek McHale.” He turns to Derek, clutching the DVD case to his chest. “Did you or did you not rent us Star Wars.”

Derek seems confused but shrugs. “Yeah...”

Stiles leaps onto him, attacking Derek’s mouth with his own.

“You are so fucking hot,” he mumbles into his lips. Derek laughs.

“If I had known renting a movie was all it takes...” Derek teases. Stiles huffs and sits up, pulling Derek with him.

“Dude, I’ve been trying to get your brother to watch this with me for like _years_.”

“You’ve known him for three months,” Derek deadpans. Stiles rolls his eyes and punches him in the shoulder.

“Shut up. You know what I mean.” A silence falls onto them as they cue up the movie. “Do you think we should tell him?”

Stiles doesn’t have to clarify what he means.

“Let’s just deal with one thing at a time,” Derek says. And yeah, Stiles can do that. So he curls up under Derek’s arm and watches his favorite movie with his warm boyfriend.

***

When Derek and Stiles finally head upstairs, Stiles feels like everything’s moving in slow motion. Derek takes his hand and leads him up the steps, into his room, and onto his bed. Stiles sits on the bed while Derek closes the door. Derek turns around and walks up to him with nothing but _want_ written all over his face. He stands in between Stiles’ legs and leans over to gently cup Stiles’ face between his hands.

“Thanks for coming tonight,” Derek whispers like its a deep, dark secret. It sends a chill down Stiles’ spine.

“Well, technically I haven’t yet,” Stiles teases against Derek’s mouth and then leans backwards on his hands. Derek laughs and smiles down at Stiles, shaking his head.

“You’re unbelievable,” He says. Stiles scoffs.

“You don’t even know what unbelievable is, pal,” Stiles says as Derek kneels between Stiles’ knees, leaning in for a kiss. “Unbelievable is you having even the slightest bit of interest in me,” Stiles jokes. He leans in to receive his kiss, but Derek pulls away.

“Do you really think that?” Derek looks hurt, _insulted_. Stiles stutters, unsure of what to say.

“Yeah?” Stiles starts to speak. “I mean... you’re so... _you_. You’re Derek. And I’m so _Stiles_. I just...” He struggles to find his words. He knows he’s just digging himself into a hole here. Derek sighs and moves to sit down on the bed next to Stiles. He puts one hand up against Stiles’ cheek and Stiles can’t help but nudge into the gesture like a kitten.

“I've...” Derek starts. “...never really been happier than I have been the past couple of weeks. You make everything good. You... are everything good.” Stiles huffs.

“My, my, McHale. You’ve got quite the way with words.”

Derek turns so he is completely facing Stiles head on, his hands falling into his lap.

“No, seriously, Stiles. I want you to know how much I’m in this. I’m all in.” He pauses. “I really like you. And I really like this.”

Stiles hesitates opening his mouth for a second because he’s pretty sure he’ll vomit if he does. The most beautiful and talented man in the world is sitting next to him, his lips kiss-stained and his breath unsteady, telling Stiles how committed he is to him, how much he is _his_. And doubting if Stiles feels the same way.

“Derek,” Stiles surges forward to connect their lips sweetly. “Derek, I am all in, Derek. I want you.”

“Oh, you want me, do you?” Derek smirks against Stiles’ mouth, his hand running the length of Stiles’ zipper. He slowly drags it down.

“Heck yeah, dude,” Stiles replies, lightly laughing. “I _need_ you.” He removes Derek’s hand to replace it his with, unbuttoning his pants and shucking them off in one swift movement. His hard dick slaps up against his stomach when he pulls his boxers down with them.

“Uh-huh?” Derek eggs him on. Stiles helps him out of his bottoms also and they lay back in the bed. Stiles trails his fingers from Derek’s entrance to his balls.

“Need you inside me,” Stiles clarifies. Derek moans and kisses him, turning it fast and dirty quickly. Stiles shifts so his body is on top of Derek’s--his legs straddling Derek’s naked hips, his hands planted firmly on each side of Derek’s head. He rolls his hips, slow and sharp. Derek lets out a deep, guttural sound as his dick rubs up and down Stiles’ ass.

“Fuck, Stiles,” Derek whispers. He pulls Stiles down by his t-shirt and smashes their lips together, licking into Stiles’ mouth. “Drive me crazy,” he mutters when he pulls slightly away.

“I wanna ride you,” Stiles says. He says it like a confession, but judging by Derek’s dick twitching under him and his breath hitching on Stiles’ mouth, it serves as a little more than that.

“Yeah, Stiles,” Derek sighs out. “Get the condoms and the lube and take your damn shirt off.”

“Okay, okay,” Stiles says, complying. “Someone’s excited.” He shifts back to Derek, shirtless, and drops the supplies on the bed. Derek takes his own shirt off and then motions for Stiles to come closer.

“Come here,” Derek says. “Sit on my face.”

“Fuck,” Stiles immediately responds. “Why is everything you do so hot?”

Derek doesn’t respond, just laughs and then grabs Stiles’ hips and pulls them over his face. Stiles sits on his knees, facing the lower half of Derek’s--fucking _hot_ \--body. “Shit, oh shit,” Stiles lets out in a harsh whisper when Derek’s tongue first flicks over his hole. Derek starts to pick up the pace, going harder and faster.“Oh my god, why are you so good at this--wait, don’t answer that. Just keep doing what you’re doing--yeah, yeah, right there.” Derek’s tongue dips into his entrance--quickly at first, and then deeper and deeper.

To shut himself up, he leans down and grabs Derek’s dick, letting the other hand hold him up on the mattress. As his hand slowly glides up and down Derek’s length, his ass lifts off of Derek’s mouth. Stiles licks lightly at the tip and hears a small, muffled groan, and the sound of a bottle of lube being put to use. Then, as he swallows Derek down, he feels two of Derek’s fingers press up against his hole.

Stiles gasps but keeps working Derek’s dick in his mouth, giving off a ‘pop’ when he eases off to run his tongue up and down the length. Derek presses his fingers in and holds them there, letting Stiles adjust to the stretch.

“Shit, wow,” Stiles whispers. Derek starts to move slowly. He picks up his speed as Stiles bites his lip, forgetting Derek’s dick momentarily to try and suppress his noises.

“Wanna hear you,” he hears Derek say. “Home alone, be as loud as you want.”

Stiles lets out a laugh when he realizes no one has _ever_ had the guts to say that to him. His thoughts turn dirty again when Derek adds a third digit and starts to move even faster, fucking Stiles on his fingers.

Stiles lets out a shout at the sensation, letting his voice fill the room. “Yes, Derek. Right there, oh my god, yes.”

“Fuck,” Derek says. “You love this don’t you? Me stretching you open before I watch you ride me.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles exhales. “I’m not gonna last, shit. Holy shit.” He peels himself off Derek and swivels around, kissing his boyfriend lovingly. One of his hands reaches for the box of condoms and he takes one out. Stiles rolls it onto Derek, watching Derek’s face contort with the light touches.

“You ready, big guy?” Stiles asks. Derek’s looks intensely into Stiles’ eyes and nods. Stiles swings his leg over Derek’s torso and positions himself over Derek’s dick. He lowers himself slightly so that the tip nudges against his entrance. He eases up and then goes back again, letting Derek slide in a tiny bit farther before raising himself again. He moans so loudly his throat stings after.

“Stiles, fuck, are you teasing yourself?” Derek asks. It comes out all shakey and Stiles feels his mouth twitch into a smile. He cannot and will never get over how wrecked he can make Derek. Derek McHale. The sexiest motherfucker to ever exist.

Just then, Stiles locks eyes with Derek and lowers himself all the way, he’s basically sitting in Derek’s lap.

“Fuck,” Derek lets out. “Fuck yourself on me, ride me.” Stiles loses his mind hearing those words come out of that mouth and leans forward, putting his weight on his hands, and finally starts to thrust his hip on Derek’s.

“Ohhh my god,” Stiles groans. He starts to bounce up and down faster, letting their moans and the sound of skin-on-skin fill the room.

“Yeah, Jesus, Stiles, keep going, keep going,” Derek’s voice booms.

“Oh, shit, I’m so close, Derek,” Stiles yells. He sits up on Derek so he can grab at his dick and start pulling. He feels Derek’s hands join his and they stroke him together while Stiles fucks himself on Derek.

When he hits his orgasm, he screams so loud and so rough, he wouldn't be surprised if the neighbors can hear him. Derek comes shortly after, and from the way his jaw goes slack and his nails dig into Stiles’ hips, Stiles can tell it was good for him, too.

He collapses on top of Derek and then rolls off, Derek’s dick slipping out. Derek ties off the condom and throws it in the general direction of the trashcan.

Stiles’ arm falls across Derek’s chest when they settle into their spots on the bed, their warm, naked bodies intertwining beautifully.

Stiles kisses Derek’s strong shoulder. Derek turns onto his side to face Stiles, their foreheads touching.

Derek looks down between them and mumbles, “Gimme this.” He grabs Stiles’ hand and holds it in his, bringing them both to his chest. Stiles can feel something a lot like love filling him up from head to toe. He tries to show this when he leans in to press his lips to Derek’s. When they part, he closes his eyes and inhales. The smell of sex and Derek fills his nose and his mind thinks _home_ as he drifts into sleep, his hand pressed to Derek’s heart.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was planning on there being a whole other scene or two in this chapter but it took me so long to write just this much i decided i should split it up so y'all can have some to read!!!! im so sorry about the wait i was moving across the US for the summer and boy it was a week.
> 
> so chapters 10 and 11 will be the last two normal ones and then chapter 12 will be an epilogue.
> 
> i hope this is good enough for y'all lmao im sorry im a trash can

Scott finds out on a Wednesday in mid December. Stiles and Derek have started to mix it up who’s house they hang out at after school while Scott has baseball practice. On this particularly unfortunate day, they, of course, decide to hang out at the McHale’s since Melissa is working.

“Seriously, McHale,” Stiles warns as they go inside. “No funny business today. I have a crazy math test tomorrow that is gonna kick my ass if I don’t get some studying done.”

Derek chuckles and drops his stuff onto the floor. “Whatever you say. I’m not the one who--” Derek pulls out his phone and starts to quote a text from Stiles. “--had a fucking kinky as heck sex dream about me and has been crazy horny all day.”

Stiles sticks his hands on his hips and shakes his head.

“I knew that would come back to bite me in the ass,” Stiles says while trying to suppress a smile. He falls onto the couch, sprawling his body out and opening his arms wide. “Alright, I give in. Work your magic, sugar.”

“Is that supposed to turn me on?” Derek asks, not following Stiles’ command like an asshole.

“No, it’s not,” Stiles answers, folding his arms behind his head. “But how hard I am right now might.” Derek takes the bait and his eyes flicker down to Stiles’ crotch. He sees how Stiles’ dick is straining against his jeans and lets out a low, almost inaudible growl. He drops himself on top of Stiles’ body.

“Got you,” Stiles laughs.

“Shut up, _sugar_ ,” Derek responds right before he brings his mouth to Stiles’. His tongue pushes past his lips and explores Stiles’ mouth as Stiles runs his hands up underneath Derek’s shirt.

“Why do you wear shirts?” Stiles asks, breathless between kisses. “All they do is get in the way.”

Derek kisses a trail down Stiles neck and then mouths at his collar bone.

“Because I like when you take them off of me,” Derek mumbles into Stiles’ warm skin. Stiles drops his jaw sarcastically but his breath hitches as Derek swipes his tongue up his neck.

“You are seriously gonna kill me one of these days,” Stiles says, rolling his hips up to grind against Derek’s as Derek sits up to take his shirt off. “Wait,” Stiles stops. “Is that what this is? Are you trying to kill me? Who hired you?” He raises an eyebrow for emphasis. Derek scoffs, shaking his head, as he continues to shuck his shirt off.

“You’re an idiot,” He says as he peels Stiles’ shirt off of him. Derek leans back in to softly press his lips to Stiles’.

“Your idiot,” Stiles mutters before their lips meet, a warmness spreading in his belly. He likes the way Derek’s smile feels pressed against his.

And just as Stiles’ left hand dips into the back of Derek’s jeans, the front door slams open.

“Stiles boy, where you at, I--“

Scott drops his bags on the floor as soon as he sees his shirtless older brother very much on top of his shirtless best friend.

Stiles immediately pushes Derek off of him. He jumps off the couch and holds his hands out to placate Scott. He’s thought of what he would say in this exact situation but his mind goes blank. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Derek sit up on the couch, dropping his head into hands in what seems a lot like shame.

Before Stiles can say anything, Scott beats him to it.

“Derek, what the hell? Are you serious?!” Scott screams right past Stiles to his brother. “Fuck, this is _just_ like Isaac--except not, I mean it’s--no, it’s--shit, this is so much worse for so many reasons.”

Stiles steps towards Scott, trying to shift Scott’s attention to him and away from Derek.

“Scott, wait, this isn’t Derek’s fault, it’s--”

“No, Stiles,” Scott cuts him off, keeping his angry eyes zeroed in on Derek on the couch. “This is what he does. He only thinks of himself, he fucks everyone over and I can’t believe this, I can’t believe I was dumb enough to let this happen--”

“Scott! Stop!! Can you please listen to me?” Stiles snaps. Scott rears back, but gives Stiles his attention.

“Only if you put a shirt on,” Scott says with a disgusted look on his face. “And he leaves.”

Derek immediately gets up, grabbing his own shirt and tossing Stiles his. He brushes past Scott to head upstairs. He doesn’t look back.

Stiles tries to not let hurt bubble inside of him, so he pulls his shirt over his head and sits on the couch.

Scott takes a second, eyeing the couch where he just caught his older brother and his best friend with a calculating look. He walks past it and sits in the armchair instead.

Stiles takes a deep breath and gathers his thoughts.

“Scott, do you remember that guy I hooked up with at the Jungle?” Stiles starts and Scott sighs.

“Yeah Stiles, but this isn’t about you being gay. You know I’m okay with that.”

“Yeah, I do. But, wait, no--The guy I hooked up with. That was Derek.”

“Wait, what?!” Scott jerks backwards. His look of shock and disappointment makes Stiles’ gut churn. He hates what this is doing to Scott--and he hates even more that he didn’t do much to prevent it. “So this has been going on for _months_?”

“No no! Well, I mean I dunno, it started out as like, accidental sex, but--”

“Ok, _what_ ? _Accidental sex_ ? With my _brother_? Seriously?”

“--but we’ve only officially been together for like three weeks,” Stiles finishes. He tries to give Scott an earnest look to diffuse the situation. “Scott, it’s not just sex. We really care about each other. I... he’s really important to me and I think I’m kinda important to him, too.”

Scott sighs a heavy sigh and looks past Stiles. Stiles can see the wheels turning in his head.

“Yeah, of course you are, Stiles,” Scott says, surprising him. “You’re the best dude ever.”

Stiles holds back his words, trying not to spook the graciousness Scott seems to be granting him.

“Who else knows?” Scott says. His eyes finally fixate back on Stiles.

“Uh... my dad and Lydia,” Stiles responds. Then he cringes as he remembers. “And Allison.”

“Oh,” Scott whispers. His shoulders sag with sadness. Stiles can’t believe how much he messes everything up. It’s enough he’s ruined Derek and Scott’s relationship... he can’t ruin Allison and Scott’s, too.

“Dude, you have know idea how much she wanted me to tell you,” Stiles tries to mend what he feels like he’s broken. “She’s been really great about all of it. She kept telling me that you wouldn’t wanna stand in the way of my happiness.” Stiles laughs and without thinking adds, “She said even if it meant ‘his brother’s dick--’”

“Oh my god, Stiles,” Scott groans, dropping his head into his hands, just as Derek did moments ago. “Read the room.”

“Fair point,” Stiles admits. “Are... are we okay?”

Scott goes back to avoiding eye contact.

“I just need some time to digest or whatever,” Scott replies. Stiles nods almost furiously and then stands up.

“Yeah, dude, of course. Take all the time you need. I’m gonna head out... see ya tomorrow?”

“Sounds good,” Scott says softly from his place in the chair.

Stiles grabs his stuff and heads out, closing the front door quietly behind him.

He sits in his car and immediately takes out his phone, opening his texts with Derek. He types out a half-apology/half-comforting text, but when he goes to send it, his phone instantly alerts him that the message can’t be sent.

Stiles looks and remembers that he put his phone in airplane mode this morning when they gave presentations in his English class. When he turns it off, he’s hit with a slew of texts from Scott.

**Scott (2:46 PM): DUDE PRACTICE IS CANCELLED**

**Scott (2:46 PM): COME OVER N WE’LL PIG OUT**

**Scott (2:50 PM): wya dumbass**

**Scott (2:51 PM): ok imma drive home, meet me there when you get these**

**Scott (2:59 PM): dude i see ur car in my driveway u couldve just told me u were at my house tf**

Stiles reads the text one, two, three more times and then puts his phone away and starts his car. Before he pulls away, he glances to the house once more. Stiles can see Scott nervously pacing in the living room. Stiles looks away and starts down the road before he can start to hate himself even more.

***

As Stiles is falling asleep that night, his homework barely started and his mind stupidly full, his phone buzzes. He picks it up off his nightstand and glances at the time--1:08 AM--before he notices that it’s a message from Scott.

 **Scott (1:08 AM):** **ok i digested**

Stiles responds immediately before his sleepy mind can start to process.

**Stiles (1:08 AM): yeah?**

**Scott (1:08 AM): yeah**

**Scott (1:09 AM): talked to allison**

**Scott (1:09 AM): i want you to be happy**

Without a moment’s hesitation, Stiles jumps up so that he’s standing on his bed and pumps his fist into the air.

“Hallelujah, praise the lord,” He whisper yells into the darkness of his room. Stiles knows he owes Allison big time--and he’s beginning to sense that that will be a common understanding throughout their friendship.

**Stiles (1:10 AM): Scott thank you SO much**

**Scott (1:11 AM): if you ever again say anything alluding to you and derek and dicks i’ll literally end your life**

Stiles nods, his lips pursed.

**Stiles (1:11 AM): that’s definitely fair**

***

The next day at lunch, Stiles walks into the cafeteria and spots Allison sitting at their usual table, reading a book. Stiles slams his shit down on the table and then walks right up into Allison’s space and grabs her head, planting an exaggerated kiss at the top of it.

“What the f--” Allison begins as Stiles sits down in the seat next to her. He starts to mime bowing down to her.

“Oh noble one, I am forever at your mercy,” he praises. “Bless you, bless you.”

Allison gives him a suspicious look, but who is she kidding, she loves it.

“Okay... this is kinda nice...” She says slowly. Stiles drops the act and tries to be earnest.

“Seriously Ally,” Stiles starts.

“Nope,” Allison objects to the nickname.

“Yeah that felt weird,” Stiles agrees. “But actually. Thank you for talking to Scott. And I’m sorry that you got roped into all my shit.” She smiles at him.

“Stiles, it’s fine. Scott knew I wasn’t trying to hurt him by keeping this from him. He’s a big boy, you know.”

“Ew, don’t call him that. You’ve seen him naked and that’s just gross.”

Allison laughs incredulously.

“If anyone here is being gross, Stiles--” Allison stops short all of a sudden and shoves Stiles out of his seat and into the next one over.

“Scott! Hey, come sit!” She yells past Stiles. Stiles scowls at her, because _ow, fragile boy here_ , but then looks back to see Scott coming over to them--no sour look or anything. So, ok... things might actually be fine...

“Hey, pal, how you doing?” Stiles asks as Scott sits down in the newly vacated seat. Scott shoots him an awkward look, but then turns to Allison.

“Hi, Ally,” Scott says quietly as he leans in to kiss her cheek. She blushes and Stiles waves his hands all around.

“Uh, hello?! He gets to call you Ally?”

“I get to see him naked,” She responds without hesitation. Stiles just nods.

“Ok, yup, walked right into that one.”

“I do not want to know what’s going on here,” Scott states. He turns to Stiles. “Has Derek talked to you?”

Uh... what???

Stiles is so shocked to hear _that_ sentence from Scott he doesn’t breathe for a hot second.

“Um, no? Not since...” Stiles trails off. Yeah, he doesn’t have to clarify what ‘since’ means at this table.

“I just mean ‘cause he told our mom about, uh, y’know... you... last night,” Scott clarifies. He starts to rip the crust off his cafeteria sandwich.

“Wait, wh--” Just as Stiles is about to--justifiably?-- freak out, his phone buzzes.

**Lydia Marfin (12:29 PM): art studio?**

Stiles knows that everything is okay--there isn’t a doubt in his mind that Melissa is anything but accepting--so why does this feel so serious? Why didn’t Derek text him last night if he was planning on doing something kinda _huge_?

Stiles realizes he’s just staring at his phone when Scott leans over and reads the text.

“Why is Lydia texting you ab-- _oh_. Marfin. Got it.” Scott sinks back to his seat, looking like he’s trying his hardest not to seem defeated. Stiles shifts uncomfortably.

“Haha, yeah, I should probably change that,” Stiles says. No one says anything for what feels like an hour, even though it’s only about 2 seconds, so Stiles awkwardly adds, “And I should probably go.”

“Okay,” Scott says. Stiles doesn’t get up yet. He just looks from Scott to Allison, trying to gage the situation. It’s not like he wants to just get up and leave if Scott is upset.

Scott obviously senses this and visibly relaxes.

“No, seriously,” Scott says, laughing lightly. “Go see him. Really, dude, we’re cool.”

Stiles sighs and he feels his world start to shift back to where it should be.

So, naturally, Stiles leans over and kisses Scott on the cheek.

“Love you long time, bro,” Stiles says as he stands up to leave.

Behind him he hears Scott’s “Wait, what?” and Allison’s crazy beautiful laugh and he smiles to himself. Maybe this new life of his was a really good idea.

***

When Stiles gets to the art studio, he finds Derek nervously pacing the room. He closes the door behind him and rushes over to his boyfriend.

“Hey, hey,” Stiles says soothingly and wraps Derek up in a strong hug. “Scott told me. How are you doing?”

“What?” Derek pulls back from the hug. “What do you mean? Is everything okay?”

Stiles looks at Derek incredulously, studying his face.

“Yeah...” Stiles starts. “He told me you told your mom about us last night. I just figured... I mean, that’s just a lot of truths in one day, I figured you were a little overwhelmed?” Derek’s shoulders relax.

“Oh, no, no, sorry, I--wait,” He pauses, smiling. “Hi.”

Derek leans in and presses a soft kiss to Stiles’ lips.

“Hi to you, too,” Stiles mumbles, his eyes lidded. “I’m happy to see you.

Derek lifts Stiles by his hips and sits him on the table behind him.

“Mm, me too,” Derek says as he kisses Stiles once more. He pulls away, clearing his throat. “Right, so no, yeah, I told my mom about us but that’s not that serious. She practically started planning our wedding, she loves you a lot. Well, I mean... who doesn’t.”

“Matt Daehler.”

“What?” Derek laughs, confused.

Stiles quickly plays back the painful memory of the time he broke the yearbook photographer’s trillion dollar camera at his old school. He shakes his head the clear the memory.

“Never mind. Continue.”

“Yeah, Melissa doesn’t mind,” Derek starts up again. “She does, however, want to have you and Allison over for dinner tomorrow night.”

Stiles nods.

“Yeah, I can do that,” He says. “Are you... okay with that? You seem so tense?”

“I think I’m gonna tell them. At dinner. About RISD and lacrosse and everything.”

Stiles’ heart thumps a little extra harder at the sight of Derek’s nervous face. He wraps his arms around Derek’s strong torso and pulls him closer between his legs.  Derek wants Stiles there when he tells his family really big, life changing news, and Stiles wants to be there, too. More than anything in the world. And he thinks that’s maybe... love?

“I think that’s a great idea.”


	10. Chapter 10

****When Derek answers the door that evening and finds Stiles in one of his nicer button up shirts and a pair of _khakis,_ he rolls his eyes like never before.

“Jesus christ, Stiles,” Derek says, walking into Stiles’ personal space. “It’s not like you’re ‘meeting the family.’ You’ve had dinner here before.” He wraps an arm around Stiles’ waist.

“Fuck you,” Stiles responds, but there’s no bite behind the words. “This is different and you know it. And I look _hot_ and you know it.”

Derek huffs and then turns his head to look behind him. When he doesn’t see anyone, he starts to lean in to Stiles’ mouth. He’s interrupted by Scott’s voice.

“Stop macking on my best friend and come inside already. Everyone’s waiting.”

Stiles bites back his laughter.

“Later,” Derek whispers against Stiles’ lips and a chill races up his spine. When Derek turns around to walk into the kitchen, Stiles does everything he can to not watch his ass do the wibble-wobble thing it does when he walks. Probably the worst thing that could happen to either of them would be Stiles walking into this dinner with a very obvious Derek Boner™.

Stiles enters the kitchen behind Derek to find Scott sitting at the table while Melissa runs around the kitchen putting the finishing touches on dinner and Allison stands there, not quite sure what to do. Derek absentmindedly grabs Stiles’ hand beside him.

“Scott, really?” Derek asks from where he’s standing next to Stiles in the doorway. “You’re not even gonna pretend to help?”

“Derek, really?” Scott responds. “You’re gonna fuck my best friend?”

“Scott!” Melissa and Allison snap at the same exact time.

“Woah,” Stiles mumbles. “That was terrifying.”

“Yeah,” Derek quietly agrees.

“Allison, please sit, you’re a guest tonight,” Melissa tells her. “Besides... everything... is... done!” She punctuates the ‘done’ with the oven snapping shut as she pulls out the last piece of the meal.

“You got it,” Allison says, but she grabs one of the dishes to bring to the table anyways. Derek squeezes Stiles’ hand and then breaks from him to grab silverware for the table. Stiles follows to grab the last two dishes sitting on the counter and the two head to the table where Allison and Scott are sitting.

“Oh, thank you, Stiles,” Melissa says as she joins them. “You know, you are like the son I always wanted.”

“Wha-- hey!” Scott says as Derek mumbles, “Uh, hello?”

Melissa flashes them a smile and moves on.

“Ok, so we got a salad, some rice, some chicken, and some fish for Derek,” Melissa says, pointing out all the food. Everyone immediately begins to dig in, muttering thanks to Melissa for making dinner. Stiles turns to Derek as he serves himself the salmon Melissa seems to have made just for him.

“Wait, you don’t eat meat?” Stiles asks, not bothering to lower his voice.

“Yeah...” Derek says slowly.

“But you made meatballs that one time,” Stiles points out. Derek looks up at his family (and Allison) to make sure they aren’t listening. They are.

“Yeah... for you. I didn’t eat them,” Derek points out. Stiles’ face turns red. Damn, that was really sweet of him. How did Stiles not notice?

“Oh,” Stiles gives Derek a private smile and squeezes his knee under the table. “Ok, then. You don’t eat meat.” He turns his attention to the food, serving himself a good deal of rice and chicken.

Scott sighs bitterly and Allison clears her throat. Melissa is the first one to speak up after the intimate exchange.

“So, Stiles,” She says, leaning forward in her seat at the head of the table. “What are your intentions with my son?” This gets a cackling laugh from Allison, a smile from Stiles and two huge groans from the McHale boys.

***

The rest of dinner is totally normal. Everything feels easy and Derek is smiling and Stiles feels full from enjoying a home cooked meal with a big, (mostly) happy family again. Stiles catches himself multiple times staring at Derek, but he can’t help himself. Derek’s face is just so open and beautiful when he smiles and laughs and Stiles wants to look at it for the rest of eternity.

When the conversation finally lulls and all of the food is long gone, Derek clears his throat. Stiles immediately grabs his hand under the table.

“So, um, I have something to say,” Derek admits. Everyone looks at him and Scott rolls his eyes.

“God, Derek, we already know about you and Stiles,” Scott says. “Please don’t tell us again.” Stiles throws his balled up napkin at Scott’s head. Scott catches it and Stiles curses those god-forsaken baseball practices. Derek moves on past Scott’s interruption.

“No, um, I quit lacrosse this year,” Derek says. Stiles watches as Melissa opens her mouth to respond, but Derek keeps talking. “And I didn’t apply to USC, I applied to RISD. And I got in. For, um... drawing. I like to draw.”

Wow, so he’s just steamrolling through it all. Okay.

Melissa stands up abruptly, the sudden movement making Derek flinch. Stiles feels the sudden movement from where Derek’s thigh is pressed up against his.

Melissa stands above Derek and takes his face in her hands.

“I am so proud of you,” Melissa starts. Stiles feels Derek’s body unclench and Melissa goes back to sit in her seat. “But you are an idiot if you think I didn’t know all of that.”

Stiles huffs a quiet laugh and Derek turns his head to look at Allison and Scott, who are smiling at him.

“What? How?” Derek asks.

“You used my credit card to apply, dumbass,” Melissa quips. Scott laughs and Allison smacks his arm. “And the rest was pretty obvious. I don’t think you’re as stealthy as you think you are.” Scott nods.

“Yeah, it’s true,” He joins in. “You never come home sweaty like you did after lacrosse. Now you just come home smelling like charcoal.” Scott sighs. “And Stiles,” he adds quietly.

“ _And_...” Allison adds. “Congrats, Derek. That’s really wonderful.”

Derek looks to Stiles who tries his hardest to give him and a small, supportive smile. Derek just drops his head and laughs.

“Well, alright then,” Derek says. “I guess that’s settled.”

Stiles laughs at that, and soon enough everyone else joins in.

***

After everyone clears the table while Melissa disappears, refusing to help, Allison leaves. Scott sees her to the door while Stiles waits on the couch with Derek.

Stiles tries (not very hard) not to eavesdrop on their goodbye, but when he hears the conversation stop, he can’t help himself.

“Hey, stop macking on my best friend!” He jokingly yells. He turns to look at the door and sees Scott shoot him a fed up look while Allison just gives him a ‘ _really_?' look that she must have learned from Lydia.

“Ok, so it’s not time to joke about this yet,” Stiles mutters to Derek next to him. “Got it.”

Derek just huffs and then kisses his cheek. “I’ll be in my room.”

Stiles feels butterflies in his stomach as he watches Derek retreat up the stairs. He’s starting to learn that when it comes to Derek, this feeling will never go away.

A couple seconds later, Scott plops himself down on the couch and turns the TV on. Without asking, he puts on HGTV--a guilty pleasure of his and Stiles’ that they don’t normally talk about. Just then, Melissa appears in front of them.

“Ok, so this is gonna be awkward,” She starts. “Scott, you may want to cover your ears, but Stiles you have to sleep in Scott’s room tonight. I’m fairly new to this, but I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t allow you to... y’know...” She winces. “Make lo--”

“Oh my god, Mom!” Scott yells, finally clasping his hands over his ears. “Disgusting!”

“I told you to cover your ears,” Melissa deadpans. Stiles looks from Scott to Melissa and speaks up, timidly.

“Uh, don’t worry, Melissa,” He says. “I’m super tired, I’m definitely gonna fall right asleep tonight,” He lies. “In Scott’s room.” Bullshit.

***

Only an hour and a half later, Stiles is yet again sneaking out of Scott’s room and into Derek’s. How is he supposed to just go to sleep when the living embodiment of SEX is just a couple feet across the hall?

Stiles stands over Derek’s bed and shucks his shirt off. He climbs into Derek’s bed and under the covers. Derek is half-asleep, shirtless with his--no, Stiles’?--boxers on. Stiles lifts Derek’s arm and curls himself up into Derek’s side. He slips his own arm across Derek’s bare torso and squeezes gently.

“Tonight went well,” Stiles whispers. Derek hums gently and nuzzles his face into Stiles’ hair. Stiles hears him inhale deeply, breathing in Stiles’ scent.

“It did,” Derek responds, his voice groggy with sleep. “Thank you.”

Stiles lifts head to look at Derek, supporting his weight on his other arm.

“For what?” Stiles asks.

“For... being you, I guess,” Derek says, looking through the dark and into Stiles’ eyes “For everything. Thanks.”

Stiles lets his face relax. He leans forward and softly presses his lips into Derek’s. The kiss is quick and innocent. Stiles leans back to soak in Derek’s sleepy, divine face and his breath hitches. He can’t stand how incredible this boy is and, more shockingly, how _his_ this boy is. Stiles has so much in his mind and his body; so many feelings and emotions, so much pain and joy, so much life--and it’s all for Derek. He would give it all to him.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Stiles says with a wiggle of his eyebrows. He leans in to kiss Derek again, but this time he lets his tongue sneak between his lips, dirtying the kiss quickly. They kiss fiercely for a little, their tongues dancing together and their hands sliding everywhere. “Let me fuck you?” Stiles asks softly into Derek’s mouth. He feels Derek’s dick jump from where his hand landed next to it.

Derek laughs quietly.

“That was a yes,” Derek says. “A yes _please_.”

“So polite,” Stiles says, slipping his hand into Derek’s boxers around Derek’s dick, giving it a few pulls.

“Fuck, I love your hands,” Derek says into the moonlight that illuminates them. “Ever since that night at the Jungle, I...”

Something in Stiles stills when he realizes they’ve never really talked about that night before.

“Yeah?” Stiles teases. He glides his thumbs across the tip and goes in to nibble at Derek’s earlobe. “What about that night?”

“I saw you running your fingers through your hair on the dancefloor and, fuck, I wanted you,” Derek says, breathless.

“Tell me more,” Stiles says, partly because he knows it’s working, but also because dammit he wants to know. He sucks a mark tucked away behind Derek’s ear and then kisses down his neck to do the same below his collarbone.

“You were wearing dark jeans and this t-shirt that was _way_ too small and... _shit_ ... and you looked so good... dancing and... and... _Stiles_.”

Derek loses his train of thought when Stiles slides down his body, slips Derek’s boxers down to his ankles and takes his dick in his mouth. Stiles swallows all of it down and then slowly glides his mouth off. The ‘pop’ sound fills the room, followed by Stiles’ quiet voice.

“Spread your legs,” He orders.

Derek complies, kicking his boxers all the way off while Stiles leans over to the nightstand to retrieve their supplies. He sits on his knees in between Derek’s legs and makes eye contact with Derek while lubing up his fingers. He watches as Derek’s chest rises and falls quickly, his tongue flicks out over his lips before he bites down on his bottom lip hard.

“Fuck, you really want this don’t you?” Stiles says, sliding his dry hand up Derek’s left thigh. He lets it ghost over Derek’s balls before wrapping around the base of Derek’s dick.

“Yes, dammit. _Yes_ ,” Derek lets out. Stiles’ heart thumps. He loves doing this to Derek, driving him crazy, leaving him breathless.

Stiles holds onto Derek’s dick oh so lightly and starts to pumps it up and down. Slowly. Derek fists the sheets on either side of him and moans.

“Stiles, do it already,” Derek barks in a hushed voice. Stiles smiles crazily.

“You were so polite earlier, what happened?”

Derek groans, irritated but aroused.

“Please, Stiles,” He whispers. “Fuck me, _please_.”

Stiles leans forward to kiss him quickly and lightly.

“Not yet.”

Derek groans yet again and Stiles takes his other, lubed up, hand to Derek’s entrance. This is all very new to him, but his nervousness is taken over by want-- _need_.

Stiles _very slowly_ slips one finger completely inside and then stops. He doesn’t know how used to this Derek might be, and he isn’t sure he wants to know. Derek wiggles his hips, impatient.

“Stiles, keep going, keep going,” Derek breathes out. Stiles smiles in the darkness and takes his finger all the way out before sliding two back in. This time he takes his time--slides them in to the first knuckle, takes them back out, slides them in again to the second knuckle, takes them out again. He adds a third finger and watches Derek for signs of pain as he pumps them in and out. He finds only pure pleasure written all over Derek’s face.

“How is it, how does it feel?” Stiles asks just for good measure.

“So good, Stiles,” Derek whispers. “So good, I need more, can you...”

“Say no more,” Stiles says with a wink, despite Derek’s eyes being closed. He slips his fingers out, holding Derek still with a hand to his inner thigh. Stiles goes to tear the condom wrapper open when Derek reaches a hand out to stop him.

“Stiles,” Derek looks him right in the eyes. “Stiles, I’ve never been with anyone else.”

Stiles stops for a second, stunned. His heart leaps with satisfaction, but his mind is lost... why--

 _Oh_.

“Me neither,” Stiles lets out. “So...”

“Guess we don’t need that,” Derek says with a smirk. Stiles, ever the drama queen, tosses the condom behind him and leans over Derek’s spread out body to press their lips together. While their kiss gets very dirty very quickly, Derek reaches behind Stiles and starts to slip off his boxers. On their way off, they catch on his hard dick.

Stiles laughs into Derek’s mouth.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Stiles says lightly. He backs off of Derek and pulls his boxers, throwing them behind him in the same direction as the discarded condom. He then finds himself kneeling in between Derek’s legs again.

“How?” Stiles asks, not able to find the complete sentence in his own mouth. He hopes Derek will fill in the rest.

“Just like this,” Derek answers. “I wanna be able to see you.” Stiles blushes at that, and hopes the moonlight isn’t bright enough to show the red creeping across his skin.

“As you wish,” Stiles says. He grabs Derek’s hips and lines himself up against Derek’s stretched out hole. He locks eyes with Derek before he pushes himself all in.

“Fu...uck,” Derek whines, his eyes squeezing shut. Stiles pauses to let Derek get used to the stretch, but Derek starts to buck his hips up and down.

“Move,” Derek whispers. Stiles complies, leaning over to rest his hands on either side of Derek’s head, his torso hovering over Derek’s. He starts to thrust his hips forward and back, forward and back--the steady and slow movement pulling his dick in and out of Derek’s entrance.

“Shit, Derek,” Stiles whispers, causing Derek’s eyes to open and lock with his. “You feel so good.” Stiles starts to pick up the pace and Derek reaches his hands up over his head to brace himself on the wall.

“Yes... yeah... yeah, Stiles, right there,” Derek moans. Stiles leans down and slips his tongue into Derek’s mouth. The kiss is pure lust and passion, just a way to keep them both quite enough so no one else can hear.

“So close, I’m so close,” Derek says, his tongue basically intertwined with Stiles.

“Me too, me too,” Stiles says back. He lifts off of Derek and grabs his dick that is lying hard and leaking on his stomach. He pulls and pulls until Derek’s hands come down to fist the sheets again, his toes curling in and his back arching.

Derek bites his lip as he comes, only emitting a small, muffled groan into the mostly quiet room.

Stiles watches Derek like the piece of art that he is, but it’s only a matter of milliseconds before he’s coming as well--filling Derek up, hot and thick.

Stiles gives Derek’s dick a couple more tugs before letting his finger slip through Derek’s come on his stomach. With his dick still pulsing inside of Derek, Stiles brings the finger up to his mouth and sucks.

“Jesus christ, Stiles,” Derek says, rolling his eyes. “You’re so much.” Stiles laughs, maybe a little too loudly, but he doesn’t care. He slips out of Derek and curls up next to him like he had when he first came inside tonight.

“You like it,” Stiles says. He yawns and lets his eyes close, his body completely spent.

“Uh, Stiles?” Derek whispers, his arm flexing from its place under Stiles.

Stiles’ eyes open and he sits up on his elbow.

“Seriously?” Stiles says. “I’ve already slept in here, are you still not past the whole ‘you might fall, dot, dot, dot’ debacle?”

Derek smiles and his hand runs up and down Stiles’ back lovingly.

“Babe, you and I both know Scott _and my mom_ will tear me a new one if they wake up and find you in my bed, naked and covered in come,” Derek responds. Stiles just stares at him.

“You’re right and all, but I can’t believe you just called me babe,” Stiles jokes. Derek rolls his eyes and pulls Stiles in for a kiss.

“And I did,” Derek says.

Stiles, confused, lifts his head up and raises an eyebrow.

“You did what?”

“I fell... dot, dot, dot.”

Stiles chest tightens and he feels like he sees stars for a second. His hand grips Derek’s arm tightly and smiles ridiculously wide.

“I love you, too, Derek McDoofus,” Stiles teases. He kisses Derek one last time, chaste and sweet, and then slips out of the bed. He pulls his boxers and shirt on and stands by the door before turning around to find Derek watching him leave.

“Like a lot,” Stiles whispers across the room. “I love you _a lot_.”

“I know,” Derek says.

“You fucker! You can’t just Han Solo me right when I’m leaving!”

Derek laughs and shakes his head.

“I love you so much. Goodnight, Stiles.” Stiles smiles back through the moonlight.

“Goodnight, _babe_.”

And with that, Stiles opens and the door and slips out.

He falls asleep on Scott’s floor, smiling bigger and wider and crazier than he has in a long time.

And something deep in his gut tells him Derek is smiling just as big and wide and crazy in his bed across the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> always practice safe sex kids!!! it's nice and all in this Piece of Fiction® but use protection ok
> 
> one more chapter! then the epilogue! then gbye! :')
> 
> your comments are too too kind i am forever grateful xoxo


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okeedokee here it is!!! we have arrived at the end my friends! the ~~final chapters~~
> 
> i hope y'all enjoy! the epilogue is coming rn also ;)))

“No, dude, I’m _telling_ you, werewolves exist,” Scott tells Stiles as they walk into school together.

“C’mon, Scotty, are you shitting me?” Stiles responds. He loves Scott, but werewolves? Really?

Stiles turns to look in front of him and he spots Derek at the end of the hallway, talking by some lockers with two people he’s never seen before.

“Yeah, Allison’s been reading up on it and she thinks her family may have been like... _hunters_ or some shit.” When Stiles doesn’t respond, Scott keeps talking. “What? No snippy remark about my girlfriend’s werewolf-hunting ancestors...?”

Stiles just doesn’t care about whatever Scott is saying because _there’s his boyfriend_.

“What’s up?” Scott asks. He follows Stiles’ line of vision to see what’s distracting him. “Oh, come _on_.”

“What! It’s not my fault your brother is god’s gift to this Earth!” Stiles says, steering himself towards Derek and away from his math class.

“Yeah, I’m outta here,” Scott mumbles. He keeps walking towards his own class and calls after Stiles once more. “Lunch later?”

“Yeah,” Stiles yells back, not taking his eyes off his Derek at the end of the hallway. He’s wearing a maroon henley and dark jeans that make Stiles’ stomach churn and his mouth water. How the fuck is someone allowed to look that good. In a school. Where there are _children_ among them.

Stiles quickly walks up behind his boyfriend and wraps his hands around his eyes before the two people Derek is talking to can react to the strange boy creeping up on their acquaintance.

“Guess who?” Stiles says into Derek’s ear. Derek pretends to be stumped.

“Uhhh... Melissa Joan Hart?” Derek says.

Stiles gasps, taking his hands off of Derek’s face, and comes up beside him. He slaps Derek’s arm with disbelief.

“You asshole!” Stiles scolds. “She was a _guilty_ pleasure--emphasis on the word _guilty_ \--that I told you about in _confidence_ , dickwad!”

Derek just laughs and put his arm around Stiles’ waist, pulling him into his side.

“Say, Derek,” The blonde girl Derek was talking to says sarcastically, “Who would this sophisticated young lad be?”

Derek rolls his eyes and motions between the three of them

“Erica, Boyd,” Derek says. “This is my boyfriend, Stiles. Stiles--Erica, Boyd. My friends.”

Erica is grinning like a madman while Boyd gives him a smaller, more tame smile.

“Derek talks about you all the time,” Boyd says in a welcoming manner.

“Like, actually,” Erica adds. “We have heard. So. Much. About you.”

Stiles turns to Derek and shoots him a look.

“Really? ‘Cause he’s never mentioned you guys,” Stiles responds.

“Yeah, ok--” Derek tries to interject. Stiles doesn’t let him.

“No, really. I was under the impression that I was the only person who interacts with him.”

“Stiles, I have friends,” Derek says. Stiles ignores him.

“Like, I don’t wanna be ‘that guy,’ but... Derek isn’t _paying_ you guys to be here, right?”

Erica loses it, while Boyd laughs quietly, shaking his head.

“Erica is in my Drawing III class,” Derek clarifies. “And Boyd is Erica’s boyfriend.”

“Ahhhh,” Stiles says, the pieces coming together. “Now, see, _that_ makes much more sense. “Well, it’s nice to meet you guys. What were you talkin’ about?”

“Boyd here is in the midst of a crisis,” Erica offers. Stiles raises an eyebrow, intrigued.

“Oh, is he?”

“Yeah, my dad wants me to stay in Beacon Hills after graduation,” Boyd says.  “Y’know, go to Beacon Hills Community College and start to take over the family business.”

“Oh my god, this is just like in the movies,” Stiles exhales.

“That’s what I said!” Erica agrees.

“But,” Boyd continues over them. “I got into Boston College for hockey.”

“ _Full ride_ ,” Derek emphasizes.

“Shit, man.”

“Yeah,” Boyd says.

“ _And_ ,” Erica continues. “I’m going to Emerson for drama. So it would be literally perfect.”

“Damn, that’s really a win-win, how is your dad not on board?” Stiles asks.

“You’re asking the wrong guy,” Boyd responds.

“Does he not want you guys to live near each other?” The minute it leaves his mouth, Stiles knows that _maybe_ that was a tad too invasive. But Derek is starting to basically be his other half, and these are Derek’s friends (apparently)... and dammit, he wants to know.

“No, he loves Erica,” Boyd says.

“As most people do,” Erica adds on.

“Yeah, and my brother tried to do long distance after high school and... I dunno, you’d think after seeing how much that fucked him up, he’d be all for us going to school in the same city.”

“Yeah, wow,” Stiles mutters.

“Yeah, so it’s not that,” Boyd says. “Who knows, maybe--”

“Ah, sorry man, but I gotta get to class,” Derek interrupts. “See you guys later?”

Boyd and Erica both nod.

“Yeah, totally,” Erica says.

“Good luck, Boyd,” Stiles says as Derek grabs his hand and starts to leave.

“Thanks, man.”

“Bye, honey, it was nice to meet youuuu,” Erica shouts after him, only she’s speaking directly to his ass.

Stiles laughs and bumps his shoulder into Derek’s.

“She’s ridiculous,” He says. “I like them. _Your friends_.”

“Yeah, they’re great.”

“Where’s your class?” Stiles asks, not sure where Derek seems to be leading them. Derek looks to Stiles.

“Oh, I don’t have class,” He says. “Come with me to the studio?”

“Fuck yeah,” Stiles responds.

Once they’ve weaved their way through the crowded hallways and arrived at the art studio, Derek closes the door and they are finally alone.

Stiles smiles at Derek and immediately goes in for a kiss, but Derek stops him.

“Wait, Stiles,” Derek says, walking over to the nearest table and sitting on it. “We need to talk.”

“Ummm... okay, weirdo,” Stiles says hesitantly, hopping up onto the table beside Derek.

“Stiles, we gotta talk about next year. When I leave. To go across the country.”

Stiles’ stomach drops. _Fuck_. How had he not thought about this?

“Okay...”

“What do you want to do?” Derek asks.

Stiles is lightheaded. He feels blindsided. _Fuck_ , this just feels like it’s coming out of nowhere. They’re so happy together, Stiles knows it. He knows it deep in every corner of his mind. He wants to be with Derek--it’s all he wants. Stiles wants to be with Derek _for as long as possible_ . And _fuck_ , he _knows_ Derek. He knows Derek wouldn’t be bringing it up like this if he thought long distance was a good idea and... and, _fuck_ , after what Boyd just said...

“I mean,” Stiles starts. His voice gets caught in his throat and it comes out scratchy and nervous. “I mean, long distance seems really... hard.” _Fuck_.

Derek nods and his face snaps into some kind of blank expression--a blank, emotionless, I-have-all-my-walls-up expression. Stiles feels whiplash when he realizes it’s the same expression from before he and Derek were together. The kind of face Stiles just can’t read. _Fuck_ , why is this happening? _Fuck_.

“Okay,” Derek says, voice steady and calm. “So... you don’t want to stay together?”

Stiles’ breath hitches. He’s shell shocked.

“Uh, yeah, I mean cool, if that’s what you want, sure, yeah, I--” Stiles sniffs, his throat burns and his eyes are getting wet. He’s trying to find his footing so he can run away and hide. “I forgot, I was supposed to, um, supposed to drop something off at the station for my dad, so, um--”

Just as the first tear starts to fall, Stiles turns around, wiping it away with his sleeve. He bolts to the door.

Derek calls out after him, but Stiles doesn’t register the sound. He can’t listen to Derek list all the reasons why long distance won’t work, why it isn’t _the right choice_ to stay together. He can’t listen as Derek implies that long distance leads to cheating and lies and heartbreak.

He feels his legs take him out of the school and into his car and he gets lost in a loop of bad thoughts. _Fuck_ \--thoughts of Derek meeting mature, college students who ‘get’ his art and, _fuck_ , who get _him_ . Thoughts of Derek sitting around, drinking wine with them, kissing them, fucking them. Derek _holding_ them the way he holds Stiles. _Fuck_. Stiles knows Derek is gonna realize Stiles is just a stupid kid, a dumb mistake he made in high school and just when Stiles can’t take it anymore--when he can’t fight the need to shut his eyes and scream--he finds himself in his bed, under his covers, curled up in a ball. He lets out a sob--a full, sharp sob that leaves his throat aching and his forehead pulsing.

Derek is over Stiles. Derek wants to move on and leave Stiles in his dust.

And all Stiles wants to do is hang on and never let go.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck_.

***

Stiles has no idea how much time passes. He doesn’t know if his dad is gonna be home any minute or if he’s gonna be at work for hours. All he knows is that his mind is reeling, his head is throbbing and his fingers are covered in his own bite marks.

Stiles fishes his phone out of his pocket and refuses to let his gut sink when he sees that he doesn’t have any texts or calls from Derek. He goes into his contacts and calls Lydia.

“Stiles?” He hears his best friend’s voice from over the line.

“Uh...” Stiles tries to speak but his voice just wavers, no words seeming to form.

“Stiles, sweetheart, are you okay?” Lydia asks with worry in her voice.

“Um, I don’t... I think maybe it’s over,” Stiles whispers.

Lydia exhales sympathetically. “Do you wanna tell me what happened?”

Stiles opens his mouth to talk, but he can’t find any words that won’t make him burst into to tears again.

“Do you want me to tell you things? Just talk at you?” Lydia asks. Stiles lets out a sigh of relief. She’s good.

“Yeah,” Stiles clears his throat. “Yeah, thanks.”

So Lydia tells Stiles about her day, her week, her life. When she tells Stiles that she’s been fucking a _police officer_ , he laughs so hard he feels his ribs ache. He wipes the snot off his face as she tells him about Parrish. He sits up in his bed as she talks about the old guy she chased after he cat called her. And by the time she starts to tell Stiles about how she’s kept in touch with Allison, he’s almost forgotten about Derek.

“Do you wanna tell me what happened now?” Lydia says when Stiles can finally speak in entire sentences.

“Derek’s going across the country for college,” Stiles says.

“Yeah.”

“And he asked me what I wanted to do about it--totally catching me off guard--and I dunno, by the way he brought it up... I just knew he didn’t want to do long distance.”

“Well, Stiles, long distance isn’t the only option, you know?” Lydia offers when Stiles doesn’t say anything more. “It doesn’t have to be long distance or bust.”

“Yeah, but--”

“Sweetheart, just... don’t make any rash decisions, okay?” Lydia says. “Don’t shut him out and let him leave, I mean you know what happened with my parents.”

Stiles swallows. He does know.

Lydia’s mom was offered a ceramics apprenticeship in New York when Lydia was a baby and they still lived in Michigan. Her dad was stuck about what to do--he didn’t want to leave his job so eventually he just let her mom leave with their daughter. They divorced and didn’t speak for _years_ until one day when Lydia and Stiles were in 8th grade and he just showed up. Stiles never got all the details, but he assumed they just talked it out because they were suddenly getting remarried and he was moving in with them.

“They lost all those years because he was too proud to do anything about it,” Lydia tells Stiles. “I’m not saying I know what you should do, but--”

“Yeah, I know,” Stiles says. “I--thanks.”

He hears Lydia breathing and he can tell she’s thinking.

“Y’know, Allison told me that Scott one time said your name when they were having sex.”

“Lydia!!! What the-- are you serious?” Stiles yells into the phone.

“No, obviously not, ew!” Lydia says. “But you’re smiling aren’t you?”

Stiles starts to laugh and Lydia joins him. They laugh for a while more, until Lydia has to go meet Jordan and they have to say goodbye.

Stiles knows it didn’t fix all of his problems--he still lets a tear or too fall after they hang up--but he does feel a little less broken.

***

A knock on his door jolts Stiles from his sleep. As his eyes adjust to the dark that wasn’t there before, his dad peeks his head into his room.

“Hey, kiddo, you sleepin’?” The Sheriff asks from the doorway. “I tried calling your name but you didn’t answer.”

Stiles rubs his eyes with the back of his hand and tries to ignore the how worn out his eyes feel.

“Uh, yeah, must’ve fallen asleep after school,” Stiles lies when he realizes this must mean he’s been in his bed all day--he was only at school for about 10 minutes before he rushed home in a panic, after-- _oh, god_.

Before Stiles can spiral out of control again, John opens the door wider.

“Okay, well, Scott’s here.”

Stiles’ eyes focus on the two figures illuminated by the hallway light behind them and sees that, oh yeah, one of them is Scott.

“Oh, hey buddy,” Stiles tries to keep his voice stable while Scott comes into the room and John closes the door, leaving them alone.

Scott turns on the bedside lamp and sits on the side of Stiles’ bed. Stiles senses Scott’s serious mood and sits up against his own headboard.

“What’s up?”

“Listen, you of all people know that I’m not you and Derek’s number one fan...”

“What? How do you--” Lydia. Allison. Scott. Word travels fast, he figures.

“Derek and I have to go to New Mexico for Christmas to visit our dad,” Scott says.

“Okay...?” Stiles is not following.

“We’re supposed to leave Sunday morning. As in two days from now.”

Stiles raises an eyebrow to Scott, still not quite getting it.

“All I’m saying is, you’re both sad. And angry. And confused,” Scott continues. “Don’t let him leave like that. Don’t let him go to a different state when things are rocky between you, when your, like, bond is weakening or something.”

“Jesus Christ, Scott, we’re not _mates_.”

“Stiles, just believe me. If you let this drag on and you let Derek leave, he’s not gonna know what the deal is between you guys. He’s gonna do something dumb and impulsive because that’s who he is, an emotionally constipated idiot.”

Stiles can’t help but let a small, sad laugh escape his mouth. When he settles, he sighs a big sigh and Scott stands up.

“Just talk to him, alright?” Scott tells Stiles, who can’t seem to look him in the eyes. Scott claps Stiles on the shoulder. “Merry Christmas, dude.”

Stiles looks up to Scott and gives him a small smile.

“Thanks, man.”

Scott nods and Stiles watches him leave.

***

All night and all the next day, Stiles tries to draft a text to Derek. But what the fuck is he supposed to say in this situation? I love you, don’t leave? He knows Derek has to go to college and even then, he knows Derek still has an entire semester left in Beacon Hills, but...

Stiles just can’t find the words.

Eventually he sends something without thinking about it--wanting to say _something_ , anything.

**Stiles (Sat 8:46 PM): so i hear youre going to new mexico tomorrow**

Stiles considers throwing his phone across the room so he doesn’t stare at it waiting for Derek to respond. Instead, he puts the ringer on and opens his computer to Netflix, playing whatever stupid show he’s been mindlessly watching.

After half of an episode, his phone dings.

**Derek (Sat 8:58 PM): i am.**

So that’s that, then. Stiles takes it as his answer. He curls up into his bed and lets the sound of fake laughter fill his ears as he drifts off into sleep.

***

Early in the morning, Stiles wakes to the doorbell ringing. He almost lets himself fall back asleep before he remembers that his dad works Sunday mornings. So, _very_ reluctantly, Stiles rips himself from his bed in just his boxers and pulls a shirt on.

As he heads downstairs, Stiles’ mind gets heavy when it fills back up with thoughts of Derek that had been lain to fucking rest when he fell asleep the night before. His head feels heavy like lead so he takes a second to hold on to the bannister and steady himself.

Eventually, he makes it to the door. Unsurprisingly, no one is there since it must’ve taken him a year and a half to answer the door. Stiles just sighs and starts to shut the door when something on the porch catches his eye.

Stiles steps forward and sees that it’s a large manilla envelope with no address or anything written on it.

Stiles hesitates before opening it--he’s the Sheriff son, for fuck’s sakes, he knows the dangers of opening a suspicious package--but decides _what the hell_ and rips it open.

He pulls out a heavy piece of paper, marked up and smudged and--

When Stiles realizes what is it, he loses his breath and his hands start to shake.

On the paper is a charcoal drawing of Stiles’ face. He’s asleep in the picture, his eyes gently shut and his mouth curled up into a sleepy smile. His moles are delicately placed exactly right on his face, and his hand is lightly resting on the sheets beneath him.

Stiles runs his fingers over the picture--the most careful, purposeful, kind picture he has ever seen in his life--and curses quietly to himself when one of his tears falls onto the paper, smudging a small portion of the art.

Stiles turns the drawing over and several more tears fall. In Derek’s sweetly erratic handwriting it says

_My past, my present, my dot, dot, dot. Merry Christmas. I love you. Derek._

In a split second, Stiles puts the drawing down on the bench that sits on their front porch, and takes off running to the McHale house.

He’s barefoot and in his underwear, for crying out loud, but he doesn’t care. His feet sting as they slap the pavement and he can feel people’s eyes burning his skin as they watch him run, but none of it matters. Nothing matters except getting to Derek on time.

Stiles doesn’t know how he does it, but after several minutes of sprinting, he reaches the McHale’s house.

His chest is ablaze and his legs want to give out under him, but all Stiles feels is happy, happy, happy when he sees their family car parked in the driveway.

Melissa and Scott are at the trunk, packing things into the car and they turn around at the sound of a lunatic panting like a dog.

“Stiles! Did you run here?” Scott says loudly when he sees Stiles.

“Yeah,” Stiles hollers, bending over to put his hands on his knees and catch his breath. “Is--”

Stiles doesn’t get to finish his question because lo and behold, Derek comes walking out of the house, holding a suitcase and a pillow like it’s just any other day.

Before Derek has time to register what’s happening, Stiles is running towards him and leaping--literally leaping--into his arms. Derek drops his stuff and catches him, only getting a second to breathe before Stiles finds Derek’s lips with his.

Their lips are dry and Derek tastes like a quick breakfast, but Stiles can’t find it within himself to care. He lets his tongue slip into Derek’s mouth, his hands coming up to hold Derek’s face, and he kisses him with everything he has.

Derek is slowly starting to set Stiles down when Stiles remembers they are not alone. He breaks the kiss and looks over the car, where Melissa and Scott are looking _anywhere else_.

“I’m assuming you got my present?” Derek says. Stiles tilts his head and looks into Derek’s eyes. He tries to find anything except love hiding in Derek’s face--and he comes up short.

“Well, I’m assuming _dot, dot, dot_ means future, which means...?” Stiles says. He lets the sentence hang, trying to let the weight of what he’s asking settle in the air between them. He doesn’t want Derek to just say what he wants to hear, he wants Derek to want him the way he wants Derek. Completely, absolutely, unconditionally. Madly and passionately and with his whole entire being.

“People do long distance, right?” Derek says with a twinkle in his eyes.

And forever. Stiles wants Derek forever.

And Derek definitely wants Stiles, too.

 

_end_


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok this ending is self indulgent & sappy as all heck and i would apologize, but ive honestly been writing this fic for basically three years and the fact that im done with it is just so... :')
> 
> i hope it's a good ending for y'all and i really cant thank u enough for your wonderfully sweet comments.
> 
> if you wanna find me im on tumblr but i barely ever use it i really just exclusively use my skam sideblog sanasunn no ragrets come hang out ok
> 
> AH I CANT BELIEVE IT omg ok. ok go

Stiles sits on his new, bare bed tapping a foot on the floor repeatedly. His dad is moving stuff around on his new desk and senses Stiles’ nerves.

“Is he on his way?” John asks.

“Yeah,” Stiles looks at his phone. Derek only texted him 2 minutes ago that he was leaving his dorm at RISD to walk over to where Stiles is moving into his new dorm at Brown.

It wasn’t a hard decision for Stiles--Brown has a great history department, Providence is great, and the love of his life is only a short walk away. No brainer. Convincing his dad that he didn’t only want to go because of Derek was another story, but he came around when he got their financial aid award in the mail.

And Stiles was of course worried about going back to the east coast and leaving his dad in Beacon Hills, but ever since he noticed that John and Melissa were starting to spend more time together, that was crossed off of his list of concerns.

The last two years were hard-- _really_ hard. Not seeing Derek every day and knowing that he was 3000 miles away made every day feel like the ultimate test. There were fights and there were rough patches, and lots of them, but at no point over the last two years did Stiles question their relationship. Every morning when he woke up and every night when he went to sleep, Stiles loved Derek.

And, of course, when Derek came home to visit on breaks, the mind-numbingly amazing sex they had definitely helped.

Stiles shivers at the thought of all those nights--Derek fucking into him or riding him or just holding him, while they whispered tiny words of love and gratitude to each other. He shakes his head to clear his mind, though, ‘cause his dad is very much in the room with him.

“He should be here soon,” Stiles says.

John finishes moving Stiles’ stuff around and looks at him.

“Well, I definitely do not want to be here to witness your, uh, reunion,” The Sheriff says. “So, I’m gonna head out.” Stiles stands up to hug his dad. “I am _so_ proud of you, son.”

Stiles feels a tear roll down his cheek and onto his dad’s shirt.

“Thanks, pops.”

“I love you, I believe in you, I am always rooting for you,” John continues as Stiles pulls away. “I’m just a quick plane ride away, alright? And, y’know your mom is even closer.”

Stiles nods and feels his heartbeat settle at the thought of being closer to his mom’s grave. It comforts him knowing that he can go talk to her whenever he needs to.

“So. Call me when you’re all settled in, and let me know how the first day goes, okay?”

“Okay,” Stiles says. “Thanks for everything, dad.”

They hug one more time before John heads out the door and Stiles watches him go. He lets himself breathe for a second, letting it sink in that he just said goodbye to his dad because he is _in college now_.

Stiles takes a step to the window and for a second he thinks his heart is gonna jump out of his body because he sees Derek walking across the street and towards his dorm.

Stiles is pacing around his new room, bumping into things and knocking shit over when his door opens.

“Hey,” Derek says from the doorway.

“Whatthefuck are you doing, _come inside_ ,” Stiles says frantically, waving his arms.

Derek laughs but obliges, closing the door and rushing over to Stiles.

They fall back onto the bed and their lips collide with ease, like they’ve been kissing for hours.

“I missed you,” Derek says softly against Stiles’ lips.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Stiles says back. He pulls Derek’s face back towards his, kissing him once, twice more. “I am in _college_.”

“Yeah, you are,” Derek says with one more kiss. “How do you feel?”

Stiles slides his hands down to grab at Derek’s ass.

“Horny.”

Derek laughs and kisses Stiles’ face everywhere.

“I’m so happy that you’re here,” Derek admits, his lips brushing against Stiles’ temple. “Actually I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Stiles’ body clenches and the two boys sit up on the bed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” Derek says immediately, reaching for Stiles’ hands with his own. “Nothing, I just wanted to say, um...”

“Derek, you’re not allowed to freak me out today,” Stiles says. “It’s my first day of college.”

“I just wanted to say,” Derek continues, “That you’re it for me.”

Stiles’ face droops into a lovesick expression only Derek can cause, but waits for Derek to say more.

“You’re it for me, Stiles and... I hope you know that. That I don’t want anyone else--I’ll never want anyone else.”

“Jesus, Derek, are you proposing to me?” Stiles jokes. Only, Derek doesn’t laugh. He just stares at Stiles and Stiles suddenly can’t breathe. “Derek, _are you proposing to me_?”

“No, no, but,” Derek looks down at their hands and then back up to Stiles. Fuck, Stiles loves this boy. “But, I dunno. I just want you to know that I’m not now or ever going to be looking for a way out of this. I want you here and I want you wherever we are, so... I dunno, consider this a pre-proposal.”

Stiles laughs, his head tilting back and his breath shaking.

“Well, consider this a pre-abso-fucking-lutely- _yes_ ,” Stiles says. He climbs into Derek’s lap and peppers his mouth with quick, loving kisses.

They lay down together, their lips simply brushing against each others, their legs jumbled together and their hands roaming all over one another’s torsos. They look into each other’s eyes and Stiles lets out a long, happy sigh, curling up into Derek’s chest.

Stiles can’t help but think that in this moment on his new bed, in his new room, in his new town, with his new pre-fiancé, he has never felt more at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (✿◠‿◠) thank you for reading my friend (◡‿◡✿)


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